


New Chapters

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Cemetery, Childbirth, Children of Characters, Day of the Dead, Family, Fluff, Ghosts, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Multi, One Shot Collection, POV Animal, Pigs, Post-Canon, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 28,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People leave the world, but they also come into it. As the years pass, Manolo, Maria and Joaquin must learn to navigate the new challenges and obstacles in their stories while the next three amigos strive to write their own. Oneshot series encompassing a variety of genres, characters and pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life

San Angel was a town of simple souls. Most of its people had never been more than ten miles away from the house where they were born, and its placement far off the beaten path ensured that visitors from the outside were a rare occurrence indeed. It had to provide for itself in most things, and that included entertainment. Gossip and rumors were quick to fly about the confines of the small island, especially when everyone knew who was being discussed. It was a time-honored tradition to sit at bars or around dinner tables and talk of what had been heard. Yet this was barely enough, for the truth of the news was elusive and its subjects almost always the same.

But every once in a while, something spectacular happened.

Lanterns lit the townsfolk's anxious faces as they crowded around the front of the Casa de Sanchez, where they had been since that afternoon. It was late into the night now, perhaps into the next day, and there was still no word of Maria's condition. They assumed she was still alive, at least - they would have heard by now had something gone wrong.

A scream came from within the house, high-pitched and frantic, and the townsfolk flinched at the sound. _Poor girl,_ they whispered. _The first birth is always hard._

"That isn't going to help," Joaquin said as he and General Posada looked down at the figure they were currently sitting on.

 _"Get_ _ **off me!"**_ Manolo yelled, continuing to thrash.

"Only if you promise to stay out here," his father-in-law answered.

He glared at them but nevertheless stopped moving. "Fine."

This satisfied the other two men, who began to stand up. "Now that wasn't so - "

They were thrown to the ground shrieking as Manolo leapt out from under them and ran down the hall towards the room where his wife was being kept. _"Maria!"_

He was nearly to the door when someone tackled him to the ground yet again. "Hey, man, what you wanna go in there for?" Pepe Rodriguez said, trying to sound casual. "It isn't exactly a party."

 _We can't keep doing this._ Joaquin looked around the hall for a solution that didn't involve crushing his friend and saw a closet door. "Sorry about this, _amigo._ Pancho, open that up!" Picking Manolo up, he carried the struggling young man to the closet and tossed him inside. The five of them shut the door and held it closed as Manolo repeatedly threw himself at it from the other side.

"Um…how long is this gonna work?" Pablo asked nervously.

"As long as it needs to," Joaquin answered. "Hopefully."

The door on the other side of the hall opened, and Ixa stuck her head out. "Is everything alright?"

"What, with us?" her husband answered. "Oh, yeah! Totally! Never been better!" They all smiled as the closet door rattled again, their expressions exhausted and slightly unhinged.

"We heard shouting," Ixa continued. "She wants to know if Manolo is doing well."

"You can tell her that her son's father has a very colorful vocabulary," General Posada remarked.

"I heard that!"

The old man punched the closet door, eliciting a yelp of shock from within. "All she needs to worry about is herself and that child."

Ixa slowly nodded and shut the door, leaning against it.

"Well?" one of the nuns asked. "What did they say?"

"I do not think this was a very wise idea…"

"Let him in."

All the women's eyes turned to stare at their patient. "Absolutely not," said the midwife. "It wouldn't be proper."

Maria was sitting up in bed, straining from the effort of movement. She was covered in sweat, and she grimaced as she tried to take deep breaths. "I can calm him down," she managed to say. "He'll listen to me."

"But it's almost time - "

"Hurry up, then!" She groaned as another contraction sent her slumping backwards.

Ixa nodded and opened the door, pausing at the strange sight now before her. The men were pushing against the closet door, barely able to keep it closed. "She says he can come in."

"Wait, what?"

The pause was enough for Manolo to shove against the door one last time and send the others tumbling backwards. Rushing past them, he hurried into the room. "Where's Maria?" He saw her a moment later and ran to her side, fearfully looking her over. "Are you alright?"

"Have you been causing trouble out there?" she asked, giving him a dark look.

"I wanted to make sure you were - "

"I'm _fine,_ Manolo," she said. "And so's the baby. They say it won't be long now." She lifted up a hand, and he took it in both of his.

"How do you feel now?" the midwife asked her.

_"Ow…"_

The older woman looked down, and then up again. "I think I see something! Push!"

Gritting her teeth, Maria did as she was told. The pain flared up and dulled once again.

The women gathered around her, talking at once. "The head's crowning! Just a little bit longer!"

She pushed again, and a burning, stinging pain erupted through her as though something was slowly ripping her apart. She gasped, and a strangled cry came with it. Manolo stiffened, and she thought she heard him mumbling a prayer under his breath.

The other men peered in through the open doorway, their eyes wide. Ixa blanched and gagged, staggering away from the bed. "I don't feel well…"

"Not now!" the midwife snapped.

Maria gripped her husband's hand so tightly that she thought it might break. Her head was spinning, and her vision turning spotty. _I can do this,_ she thought as she moaned. _I can do this._

"Did you hear that?" Manolo whispered to her. "Just one more."

With the last of her strength, Maria steeled herself, closed her eyes and pushed.

The pain seemed to burst and subside into a throbbing soreness. She was aware of several things: the women chattering, Ixa vomiting into a bucket of water, the men trying to get into the room, Manolo brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her. Above all, she was aware of the tiny wailing that came from the other side of the room.

She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. "I want to see."

"Just a moment," the midwife said. "We're cleaning her off."

"Out of my way!" General Posada shouted, shoving his way into the room. "Well? Where's the boy?"

"There is no boy, _señor."_

He looked confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a granddaughter."

The old man's eyes bugged out. _"Qué?"_

A girl. They had a girl. Maria grinned and gently nudged Manolo. "Guess you're not so crazy now, huh?"

Her husband didn't answer, or even acknowledge her. He simply sat in a daze and watched as the squirming little figure was wrapped in a quilt, carried back to the bed and placed in Maria's arms.

She was still struggling slightly, but her cries subsided once she was with her mother. Her skin was a soft brown like his, and small tufts of dark hair were growing on her head. He couldn't tell which of their eyes she had gotten since they were still closed. _Doesn't matter now. She's safe. They both are._

"Sssshhhh," Maria said, holding the baby close as it cried out a few more times. "It's alright, _mija._ Mama's here." The girl seemed to understand this, because she calmed back down almost at once. Maria then looked to him, lifting the bundle up. "Do you want to hold her?"

Manolo's throat closed up, and all he could do was nod.

"And here's your papa," Maria said to the child as she handed her over. "You know him. He's the one who sings to you."

It was the strangest and yet most logical thing. He had been to Heaven and the realm of the gods, come face to face with those otherworldly beings, seen things no mortal could possibly dream of. Yet this little person was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes upon.

 _"Hola,"_ he choked out, carefully cradling her."I've been waiting a long time to meet you…"

The tears came slowly at first, then steadily as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

All of the women smiled, and even General Posada seemed to soften a bit at the sight. "So, did you have a name in mind?"

"Ofelia," Maria said. "It was his idea."

"Ofelia Sanchez," Ixa mused. "I like it!"

The general rolled his eyes but nodded. "He picked one with a good ring to it, at least."

The nuns shrieked and scattered as Joaquin came running into the room with the Rodriguez brothers on his heels. "I wanna see! I wanna see! Where is she?" When he saw Manolo holding the baby, he squealed. "Hey there, little buddy! I'm your Uncle Joaquin! And you are so _cute!"_

Hours later, the visitors had all been cleared away and the night was still once more. Maria had fallen asleep not long after the birth. Her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, and a smile was still on her face. Manolo remained awake, sitting in a chair as he held Ofelia. She had begun crying again, and his voice was soft and gentle as he sang a lullaby to her. Before long, she was sleeping once more.

He stared down at her in wonder, a part of him still fearing she would vanish with the morning. "You're safe with me, _mija,"_ he whispered. "Safe and loved, always. I promise." He had fought his way from death back into life for her, even before she was a thought, and he would gladly do so again.

Placing his daughter back into her crib, he sank into his chair and drifted into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family with a bit of hurt/comfort, featuring the Sanchez clan living and dead alike. Also contains a reference to a headcanon by Tumblr user holyfudgincrackpots. The first of many references, as a matter of fact.

Manolo could hardly believe it had only been a year.

A year since the worst and best day of hislife. When he had died and lived again, discovered worlds he had never imagined, overcome the fear that had plagued him, welcomed his true love into his family.

When he had lost the only two members of that family he'd ever known.

He held his breath as he walked, hoping the light of the candles illuminating the graveyard didn't reflect off the tears he was trying to hold back. Maria walked at his side, Ofelia sleeping in her arms. His guitar was slung over his back, and he was carrying a small basket of marigolds and _pan de muerto._ Nestled beside them were a new set of knitting needles and the roses his mother had always loved tending to. A picture of his father was tucked inside as well, drawn and colored by Maria just for this occasion. He couldn't quite look at it yet.

Carlos and Carmen's grave was near a corner of the graveyard,its carved heartsilhouetted against the rising moon. The candles were lit,the flowers and the bread set down and the gifts work was quick, and it was quiet.

Manolo placed the picture of Carlos next to Carmen's before kneeling in front of the grave. "Mama? Papa?" he asked, his voice hardly rising above a whisper."Are you there?"

The candles flickered, as though someone was walking past them.

"You wouldn't believe the year we've had," he continued, smiling. "I hardly can. Maria's doing well. Her father's gotten used to us, I think. Joaquin got married, can you believe that? I've never seen him this happy. You'd love his wife. She's…well, it's a long story."

He paused, waiting. For what, he didn't know. He closed his eyes and tried to sense them, but felt nothing. Couldn't it be easy? Couldn't the gods be merciful and let them truly return for a few hours? _Is that too much to ask?_

"I haven't told you everything yet," he continued after taking a few breaths. "There's…there's someone we'd like you to meet."

Maria knelt besidehim. "This is Ofelia," she said to the grave. "Your _nieta."_

A small gentle breeze seemed to sweep past them, ruffling the baby's black curls. Ofelia opened her dark brown eyes and looked up. She smiled and laughed, waving her small arms in an attempt to touch the multitude of blurry blue shapes floating above her.

Carmen laughed as she let the tiny hand grab her finger. _"Hola, mi querido._ Isn't she lovely, Carlos?"

"She's perfect." Carlos stroked the girl's cheek, then rested an arm around his son. "And you were actually worrying about them, Papa."

"As I should be!" Luis exclaimed. "Now I owe the twins new rifles!"

Adelita and Scardelita snickered. "And you're paying up come sunrise."

_"Cállate!"_ Carmelo snapped at all three of them. "I want to see the girl!"

Jorge peered out from behind him, leaning over Ofelia. "She'll sing," he said proudly. "I feel it in my bones!"

"You are all bones," Anita said, giving the child only a cursory glance before returning to her knitting. "She will do as she wishes."

Manolo blinked back his tears. "I wish you could hold her," he said. "You should be able to hold her…"

Carlos patted his shoulder. "You've done well, _mijo."_

The young man closed his eyes again, then smiled in wonder. "I can feel them. I can feel them, Maria!"

Maria smiled and took him by the hand, resting her head against his arm. The spirits knelt around them both, encircling them in a gentle embrace.

After a time, Manolo rose and took out his guitar. He played a few chords, then let them drift together into a slow, lilting song. His family sat by him, listening intently as the rest of the graveyard seemed to fade away. Only with the first rays of the sun did they all depart.


	3. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humor and cutesiness, centered around Chuy and Ofelia.

You were not to trust anything which walked on two legs. All pigs knew this, for it was ingrained within them as soon as they were old enough to think. Chuy supposed he had not been quite old enough for it to fully settle when the incident occurred, which was why Maria had become an exception. Even though he sometimes questioned the company she chose to surround herself with, especially after they had returned to San Angel, there would surely never be a better companion than his human.

But this. This was unacceptable.

It began a month after they had moved into Manolo's house, when she had disappeared with him for a number of days and returned in unusually high spirits. They began decorating a spare room he had enjoyed resting in, placing down some sort of tall wooden cage as its centerpiece. Manolo immediately and firmly forbade him from sitting in Maria's lap from that point on, shooing him away whenever he tried to do so. He looked to his human for a word in his defense, but she seemed to have no objection to it. Something was very out of place, he decided after that, and before long he saw proof.

A lump appeared on Maria's belly, as though something inside her was forcing her to grow outwards. It was small at first, but as the months passed, it expanded until Maria complained that she couldn't even see her own feet. She complained of many things, usually directed at Manolo for some offense that remained vague and unnamed, and the contents of her diet turned downright bizarre. Chuy once brought her a shoe thinking she might enjoy that, only for her to throw it across the room. Eventually she was confined to her bed for much of the day, hardly able to move at all. Was she sick? Was something bad about to happen? He followed Manolo around the house, loudly demanding an answer.

"Everything's going to be alright, Chuy," he said, patting the pig's head. "She'll be fine soon."

That very afternoon, Maria was shut away in her room. The lump seemed to be causing her great pain, for it made Manolo very frightened and many people came to see it. They all stayed deep into the night, forcing Chuy away whenever he tried to see Maria. He sat by the door, waiting and listening in fear until he heard a strange crying coming from within. Once all the visitors had left, he entered to find Maria asleep.

The lump was gone. And in its place, held by Manolo, was…the _thing._

"Her name's Ofelia, Chuy," Maria told him when he was first presented with the thing. "She's our little girl. Isn't she nice?"

It most certainly was not. It was small and ugly and noisy and smelly and not at all like any little girl he had ever seen. His Maria had gone through all that trouble for the sake of this? It wasn't worth it, not at all. She and Manolo didn't seem to see it that way, though. In fact, there was hardly a moment when they were not fawning over the creature. The love they gave him was reduced to little more than meals and scratches behind the ears. He took to glaring at the terrible thing whenever he came across it, baring his teeth and growling.

"Be nice, Chuy!" Maria told him when she caught him at it one day. "She's not going anywhere, and neither are you."

Under no circumstances was he going to live under the same roof as that little monster. What did they think was so special about it, anyway? Whatever it was, he couldn't see it.

And then came the day when Maria left the door to its room ajar.

At first Chuy had thought it was simply an absent-minded accident. Then again, it was just as possible that she might have done it knowing the pig would stick his head through the doorway. He had wondered what exactly they had done with the room, what needs the creature had which required such a large space. Maria and Manolo were at the other end of the hall, working in their studio. He could be in and out of the room, and they would never know. A small look couldn't hurt.

Pushing the door open with his snout, he trotted inside.

The walls, once white, had been painted a pale yellow. On them hung several of Maria's sketches and paintings in simple frames. There was a rocking chair in one corner, a rectangular table in another, a dresser against one wall and a chest sitting next to it. And up against the wall, underneath the window, was the wooden cage with its prisoner thankfully trapped inside.

Chuy slowly approached the bars and looked through them, eyes narrowing. The thing was asleep, fidgeting a bit as it clutched a stuffed cloth pig that was somewhat too large for it. Just the sight of the thing made him angry. Growling at it, he began to turn away.

Then he stopped. It was stirring now, and as he continued to stare, it opened its eyes.

At first it didn't acknowledge him. It blinked slowly a few times, as though confused, and then became more alert. It began to warble and squawk at him in its strange way of speaking, flopping out a chubby arm to point in his direction.

If this was its way of trying to lure him in like it had done with his human, then he wasn't going to fall for it. Planting his feet, Chuy bleated at the creature as loudly as he could. _"Bleh!"_

The creature jerked, startled at the sound. Its eyes grew wide, and for a moment, Chuy thought he had put the thing in its place. But then its mouth opened in a toothless smile, and it began to laugh.

Now it was Chuy's turn to back away in wasn't it frightened of him? What was it trying to do? He looked closer, searching for a clue.

The longer he stared at the thing, the more he noticed, and the more he noticed, the more fascinated he became. He had never noticed the bits and pieces of Maria it contained: in the shape of its face, the point of its nose, the curls of its hair and the curve of its smile. There were bits of Manolo as well, glimmers of goodwill and innocence in its large brown eyes.

Now it was trying to push the stuffed pig through the bars of its cage, as though trying to show it to him. An act of curiosity and friendship, perhaps. Chuy could see why Maria and Manolo cared for this little creature - he himself was finding it more pleasant to be around.

The toy pig slipped through the bars and fell to the floor, out of Ofelia's reach. She yelped in distress as it disappeared from view, then began to cry. The noise alarmed Chuy, but not for the reasons it had before. _Don't be sad! I can make it better! Watch!_

Manolo stopped playing the middle of a note as he heard Ofelia's cries, and Maria froze with her pencil hovering just above her sketchpad. Another moment, and they had leapt up from their seats and were hurrying down the they reached the doorway, however, they stopped and stared. Maria took a few steps forward, blinking to assure herself she wasn't seeing things. "Chuy?"

He had the stuffed pig in his mouth and was trying to force it back through the bars of the crib. Ofelia began to quiet down at the sight of her toy, warbling softly as she tried to grab it.

Maria smiled. "Need some help?" Taking the pig from Chuy, she reached into the crib and returned it to her daughter.

Ofelia laughed as she wrapped her arms around the doll. Then she let it fall to the side and began trying to stick her hands through the bars once more, trying to touch Chuy. Finding his snout, she pushed against it. The pig recoiled a bit, but then gently pushed back against her hand. "Bleh."

Maria scratched behind his ears. "Glad to see you've changed your tune," she said as she lifted the giggling Ofelia out the crib. "Maybe you can two can play after we feed her." She began to walk out of the room, and Chuy trotted behind her, his eyes still on the girl.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Manolo asked.

"Very," she answered with a smile. It was about time that both her children were happy.


	4. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joaquin/Ixa romance with a bit of angst. Also a little Manolo/Joaquin friendship.

It was just over three months into her marriage, in the midst of the _Navidad_ festivities, when Ixa suddenly became quite ill. There was no fever, no gradual onset: one afternoon she simply grew pale, excused herself and hurried upstairs to hack up the remains of her breakfast. Then it happened again the next day, and again a few days after that. Soon she began to look more tired and complained of a lightness to her head.

"What do you think is wrong?" Maria asked, holding the other woman's hair back as she leaned over the toilet.

"I know not!" Ixa groaned as she gagged at the taste of the vomit. "I have done nothing out of the ordinary, I swear."

"And it just came out of nowhere?"

She nodded. "It is very strange."

Maria gently wiped Ixa's face with a damp cloth, contemplating her as she did so. "Can I ask you something?" she finally said.

"What?"

"When was your last period?"

"October," she answered innocently.

"But not last month."

Ixa shook her head. "I was rather pleased, actually."

"Does Joaquin know about that?"

"I thought little of it." A faint look of alarm crossed her face. "Should I have told him?"

"You might have more than that to tell him in a bit," Maria answered. "But first we ought to let the doctor have a look at you."

She had suspected the cause of the ailments before that point, remembering how terrible she herself had often felt in those first few weeks. Still, it was something else entirely to hear the words she had been thinking come from the doctor's mouth: "You are pregnant, _señora."_

"I thought you'd be more excited," she said to Ixa as they walked back home. "Or more freaked out. One of the two."

Ixa had not said a word since hearing the news. She was staring at the ground with wide eyes, a hand resting lightly on her abdomen."There is a child," she said, as though trying to convince herself it was true. "In here."

Maria nodded. "Yes."

"And it shall grow as yours did."

"With luck."

 _A child,_ she repeated to herself. _**My**_ _child, and Joaquin's._

It was finally more than a mere dream, and it brought a grin to her face. A spring found its way into her step as she walked faster and then began to run, all the way back to her house.

Joaquin was in the parlor talking to Manolo when she came back. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking up as she walked towards him. "What did they - "

He felt the air fly from his lungs and stumbled backwards as she threw her arms around him.

Ixa looked up into his face, her eyes shining. "We're going to have a child."

His mind cracked and fell apart, and he was at once elated and horrified at the possibility that he had heard her right. "…What?"

"We're going to have a child!" she repeated, taking one of his hands and placing it on her stomach. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"That's…that's…"

He thought he felt Manolo slap a hand on his shoulder and congratulate him, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't aware of much at the moment. Mostly just the floorboards that were quickly rushing up to meet his face.

When he woke a few minutes later, he found himself lying on the sofa. Ixa, Manolo and Maria were all leaning over him, concern written on their faces. "What happened?"

"You fainted," said Maria, who sounded unsurprised.

Ixa sat next to him, biting her lip. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," he said as he sat up. "I just…" He looked at her guilty expression, how she was lacing and unlacing her fingers as she did when she was nervous. "Is it true?"

"I would not lie of such a thing."

Swallowing his own fear, he tried to quell hers. "That," he said as he pulled her into his arms, "is _amazing."_

Ixa perked up. "Do you really think so?"

"I _know_ so," he answered. "Although I'm a little surprised you aren't more worried."

She frowned. "Why do you all keep saying that?"

"I remember how you were when Maria had Ofelia. No offense."

"I know what will happen this time!" she said, folding her arms. "And besides, Maria is happy now. How bad can it possibly be?"

* * *

 

One could hear the screams from the churchyard. Outside of Casa de Mondragon, the townsfolk traded frantic looks and whispers as they waited for news. Inside, servants ran through the halls and to and from the bedroom, where only a few people were being admitted. Señora Sanchez's orders.

"Get more water!" Maria commanded, trying to make herself heard above all the noise. "And some towels!"

She returned to Ixa's side, where the midwife was wiping streams of sweat off the frantic woman's brow. "How are you doing?"

"Get it out! _Get it out!"_

Maria sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Her husband cautiously stuck his head through the doorway, his eyes bugging out at the pandemonium before him. "Joaquin's gone off. Should I try to - "

"Out!" Maria practically yelled, shooing him back into the hallway.

"Sorry." He plastered himself against the wall, trying to stay clear of the confusion.

Ofelia squirmed in his arms and began to cry again. "Hush, _mija,"_ he said, readjusting her. "Mama will be back soon. I know you don't like this. Neither do I." Maria wouldn't have been so frustrated if everything had been going as it should.

His wife, being the only person who could keep Ixa's hysteria at a manageable level, was stuck helping with the birth and had left Ofelia with him. Several of the servants had offered to take the girl off his hands, but she screamed herself hoarse whenever she left her father's arms. It was best if she stayed with him, he finally said.

Kissing the side of her head to calm her, Manolo began to walk down the hall. "Come on. Let's go find your uncle."

He was on the other end of the house, leaning against the railing of a small balcony that overlooked the narrow alley below. In his hand was a lit cigar, its tip glowing red in the darkening night. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise into the sky and mingle with the gathering storm clouds.

"I suppose you can hear all that."

Joaquin put out the cigar as his friend joined him on the balcony. "Yeah," he answered, not looking up.

Another scream echoed through the halls, along with a stream of what sounded like curses in an indecipherable language. They both flinched at the sound, and Ofelia whimpered.

"She'll be fine," Manolo said, his voice wavering a bit. "She has Maria looking out for her. Besides, she's strong. She'll put up a fight."

Joaquin nodded. "Mmm."

"Then why are you scared all of a sudden?"

He chuckled, although there was no joy in it. "I've been scared ever since she told me."

"What's there to be scared about?"

Joaquin whirled around. "I'm going to be a _dad,_ Manny!"

"Yes. And?"

"And? Isn't it obvious? I can't be a dad!" He started to pace back and forth. "I-I don't know anything about it! I never had a dad, you know that. At least not a good one."

"That doesn't mean you'll be like them."

"We don't know that!" He stopped. "All I know is that I can't mess this up. I _can't."_

Manolo was quiet for a few moments, looking at him sadly. "But you do love them."

"Yes."

"And you'll care for them no matter what."

"Of course."

His friend smiled. "That's the most important part, you know."

He turned away, looking at the ground.

"And you know what else?" Manolo said. "Watch this." He held out Ofelia, motioning for Joaquin to take her. He did so, with shaking hands. The girl did not protest, instead burrowing against his shoulder.

"See? She likes you," her father continued. "You're already the perfect _tío,_ Joaquin. And you'll be just as good a papa."

Some of the tension drained from Joaquin's body, just enough for him to smile. "Thanks, Manny."

Ixa screamed again, louder than the last few times. When she stopped, the bustle of the others did as well. For a minute or so, the whole house was silent.

The blood slowly drained from Joaquin's face. _Is she…?_

And then she screamed again.

It all went on for another half hour, loud and more frenzied than ever. Manolo had to drag Joaquin into the sitting room, keep him distracted with Ofelia and stories about Plata and medals. It was barely enough, and as soon as the noise subsided once again, Joaquin was on his feet and headed for the door. "Ixa!"

He opened the door and found himself face to face with Maria. The woman looked terrible: her hair was unkempt, there were bags under her eyes and she was cleaning her hands with a blood-stained cloth.

Joaquin's eyes widened as he saw it. "W-What does that mean?"

She sighed. "There's no easy way to tell you this."

Manolo saw the other man starting to tremble and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell him what?"

"Two things, actually. One, I wouldn't go near your wife for a while. You've lost enough body parts already. And two…" She laughed a bit. "How many names were you thinking about?"

"A few."

"Boys and girls?"

"Yeah. Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You'll need one for each."

* * *

 

Ixa lay in bed, her eyes turned towards the ceiling as she whimpered softly. _I do not wish to do this again._

She heard the sound of a small being crying, and then it was joined by another. She tried to sit up, but her arms had no more strength. "Where are they…?"

"Here." Maria helped her up, placing a few more pillows behind her back. "A boy and a girl. You should be proud."

As her eyes refocused, Ixa saw that Manolo was holding one of the babies. Joaquin was holding the other, struggling to keep them in his arms as the little being squirmed and yelped. The children's skin was a light brown, and tufts of brunette were already growing on their heads. Their eyes were already open, revealing light blue the same shade as hers laced with threads of green.

"Easy there, little guy," Joaquin said to the boy, blinking back tears. "It's just me." He looked up, into his wife's face. "Um…hi."

She merely smiled, her angry having drained away at the sight of him holding their son. "Hello."

"So what are their names?" Manolo asked, playing with the boy.

"This one's Vicente," Joaquin answered. "We knew that already."

"She'll need one, too," Maria said as the girl was handed to Ixa.

Joaquin looked to his wife. "Well?"

Ixa looked into the girl's eyes, thinking of the names they had discussed. A number ran through her mind, but only one stood out. "Gabriela."

Her husband sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder and Vicente cradled in the other. "I like that - "

_CRASH!_

The whole room jumped as thunder burst outside, sending torrents of rain down in an instant. A cold wind blew against the windows, forcing them open. A dozen angry voices seemed to shriek with rage at the same time.

Ixa gasped and clutched Gabriela to her chest. "Joaquin…!"

Leaping up, Joaquin handed Vicente to her before running to the window. Grabbing the shutters, he forced them back together and latched them. "It's okay," he said. "Just a storm."

"No." She was shaking her head as frightened tears dripped down her face. "Father is angry."

Manolo and Maria froze, their eyes growing wide. Joaquin looked to them, then back to his wife. His face hardened as he sat next to her once more, looking down at the children.

"Well," he finally said, "that's his problem."


	5. Playdate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendship/humor focused on Ofelia, Vicente and Gabriela.

The dark brown eyes stared at the two pairs of greenish-blue ones. They all blinked once and then again, heads slowly cocking back and forth. The sight before them was strange, the children thought, too strange to put aside apprehension.

Ofelia was the one to make the first move. She began to make an attempt at scrambling backwards, seeking her parents’ arms. Instead she found Chuy’s snout, which pushed her back towards the twins. “It’s alright, _mija,”_ she heard her mother say. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”

Vicente and Gabriela recoiled from the much larger child, looking up at their parents while babbling as though annoyed. “Go on,” Joaquin told them gently as he motioned them forward. “Just for a little bit.” 

It had been Manolo’s idea for Joaquin and Ixa to bring the twins over to meet Ofelia once they were old enough to play. It would do all three of them good: Vicente and Gabriela could begin learning, while Ofelia still froze up around others at nearly a year. Perhaps they might even get along afterwards.

Now here they were after six months, and Manolo was beginning to think that perhaps it really was possible to be too optimistic. 

He got up from his chair and moved to the floor, trying to get at eye level with his daughter. “These are your cousins, Ofelia,” he said with a smile. “They’ve come to say _hola_ to you. Why don’t you go meet them?”

Ofelia stiffened as she continued to stare at the twins. Most days she babbled to herself and her family, but now she was as quiet as a grave. Her eyes grew wider as she curled up, bowing her head and burying her face in her toy pig.

"At least give them a chance," Manolo said, petting her hair to try and coax her out. "They would love to play with you! See?"

Vicente yawned as his eyes half closed, and he flopped onto his side. His sister babbled softly as she stared at Ofelia, her expression a distinct mix of confusion and revulsion. 

"Are you still sure about this?" Ixa asked as she looked over the scene.

Manolo sighed. “No…”

Gabriela’s incoherent speech grew louder. Falling forward, she began to drag herself forward in a sort of awkward crawl. She sat up when she reached Ofelia, waving her arms and warbling to get the older girl’s attention. Ofelia did not budge, even seeming to curl up more. 

Gabriela went quiet as she noticed the pig. She scrunched up her face once again, then looked back around and began to wave her arms in her brother’s direction. 

Vicente had brought one of his toys, a little cloth horse made to look like Plata. Gabriela began to crawl towards it, reaching out to snatch it away. The boy squawked angrily and tried to protect the boy, but he wasn’t fast enough. Gabriela grabbed it and started pushing it across the floor towards Ofelia.

Hearing the noise, Ofelia slowly lifted her head up. Her fascination grew bit by bit as she watched Gabriela sit in front of her, holding the horse and trying to bump it against the pig. When she pushed back with her own toy, the other girl giggled. She giggled as well, fully unfurling from her ball.

The four adults smiled as they watched the girls play. Their eyes briefly darted away from Vicente, who was now scowling over the loss of his toy. He began to crawl forward, his chubby hands reaching for the horse. When he caught sight of Ofelia’s shiny curls, however, he stopped. This was a much nicer toy! Approaching the girl, he grabbed a chunk of her hair and yanked at it.

Ofelia yelped and scrambled away from him. Gabriela began to warble at him angrily before pushing him. He pushed back, and in a few seconds they were attacking one another with light shoves and slaps. Ofelia stared at them in shock before laughing and joining in, trying to push Vicente over with her pig.

Maria was out of her chair in an instant. “Stop that!” She and Ixa grabbed the children, pulling them off the floor and away from each other.

The trio immediately began squirming in their mothers’ arms, yelping in protest. Ixa lost her grip on the twins and let them slip back to the floor. They began to crawl towards Maria and Ofelia, smiling up at their new friend. Ofelia smiled back, babbling as she reached for them.

Maria looked at Manolo, who hesitated a moment but then nodded. “Play nice,” she told her daughter as she set her back down.

Ofelia pushed the horse back towards Vicente before reclaiming her pig. They both laughed as they waved the toys around and swung them at each other. Gabriela sat near them, grinning as though pleased at her handiwork. 

Joaquin laughed as he shook his head in amazement. “Reminds you of some other kids, doesn’t it, Manny?”

Manolo looked at him and at Maria, a small, pensive smile on his face. “Yeah…”


	6. The Things We Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humor and some fluff featuring Joaquin and Ixa.

The day began like most of Joaquin's days did: perfectly. The love of his life was at his side when he awoke, and his children were in the next room. He and Ixa rose, dressed, woke the twins and brought them downstairs for breakfast. Joaquin helped feed them, humming to himself as he did so. They were much better at crawling now, and it was his habit to set them on the floor and chase them around the parlor.

"They're expecting you at the barracks, you know," Ixa told him as she went back upstairs, Gabriela trying to follow her.

"Alright, alright," he said, picking Vicente off him as he stood up. "Sorry, little guys. Gotta go. Be good to your mom." There would be time to enjoy their company later.

If only he could find the rest of his uniform.

"Ixa?" he called out. She wasn't in their bedroom, nor was she in the sitting room or the garden. As he was walking down the hall, however, he saw a seldom-opened door standing ajar. He couldn't recall much about the room, only his mother using it to store things which didn't seem to belong anywhere else. _What is she doing in there?_

"Sweetie?" Joaquin asked as he pushed the door open. "Are you in here?"

She appeared from behind a stack of boxes, carrying what looked like a pile of pastel lace in her hands and looking very pleased with herself. "Come see what I found!"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you knew where my jacket was…"

He hadn't paid much attention to what his wife was holding at first. Now, as he saw exactly what it was, his words lodged in his throat and the blood drained from his face. "…Where did you find those?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Ixa smiled obliviously as she held up the two porcelain dolls. "In here! Can you believe your mother just packed them all away like this?"

"What do you mean, 'all'?"

"Why, there must be enough to fill a whole shelf. Many shelves!"

He remembered now. The collection of those little monsters which his mother had amassed, enough to fill an entire wall. The endless nightmares it had given him. How he had been able to suppress their memory when she had finally packed them away, deciding for some unfathomable reason not to take them back to Mexico City. "Uh…"

Ixa was lining them up now, already having found at least ten. "Are they not pretty?"

Joaquin stared at them, and they stared back. Their complexions were like corpses, their eyes dead and glassy and their painted-on smiles smug. _Oh, yes,_ they seemed to be thinking. _We've got her. And now we're coming for you._

"Well?" Ixa asked.

"…I guess they're alright…"

"But can I keep them?"

"You want to _what?"_

"They ought not to be kept in here," she said, stroking the hair of one. "Perhaps Gabriela would like one when she's older!"

"I-I don't know if - "

He looked at her and immediately regretted it, for his objections withered at the sight of her face. She wore a broad grin, proud of her find, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She didn't even realize what she was doing, which made it even more infuriating and impossible to fight.

"…Sure, we can keep them."

Ixa rushed forward and hugged him, briefly knocking him off-balance. "Oh, thank you! Where do you think would be a good place for them? Our room, maybe?"

"L-Let's not do that! I mean, then we'd be the only ones who get to see them."

She considered this for a moment and then nodded. "How about the parlor, then?"

"Sounds perfect."

Ixa kissed him on the cheek and skipped out of the room, leaving him to lean against the wall and sigh. "What did I just _do…?"_

_Well,_ he thought, _it can't be all bad if it makes her happy._

He didn't normally spend that much time in the parlor, anyway.


	7. Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy parent/child bonding with Manolo, Maria and Ofelia.

Maria rarely painted scenes of life.

Sometimes it was the buildings and hills, what she could see from her windows. Other times it was what she remembered of Spain, working from photographs she had brought back. Usually she would find objects from around the house and arrange them in a scene to capture. But there were no animals in her sketchbook, nor people. She had tried painting Chuy once, only to end up chasing him around the room and spend an hour cleaning up the paint tracks.

"You ought to use a model," her classmates and teachers at the convent told her. "Far easier."

Models weren't _real,_ though. She didn't want to paint people who sat and stared at her with dull expressions, she wanted to show the world as she saw it every day, the little moments which made up a person's story.

She still couldn't find the right moment, though. It was always either too far away or too close, or it was gone before she could pin it down. Her mind and her tools wandered, turning to focus on other things.

When Manolo learned that she painted and drew, he immediately offered up half of the music room for her to work as she pleased, a deal she accepted. On one side of the room she had her easel, her canvases, her cups of paint and rows of pencils and brushes. On the other side were his chair and stand for sheet music, where he sketched out melodies as he composed or took notes as he gave lessons to the children of San Angel. Wadded-up ideas from them both lay strewn across the floor.

Things had changed with the arrival of Ofelia. No longer could they throw themselves into their work completely. An ear had to be kept out, mindful of the baby's cries whenever they began. Then she grew, and it was no longer enough to simply listen for neediness or mischief. When she began to crawl in earnest, they moved her into the work room with them during the day. She didn't seem to mind the sudden change one bit: she had a basket of toys to play with, as well as Chuy, her parents always in plain sight and - her favorite part - a wide, open space to roam about as she wished.

The day had been slow, and now it was dragging its knuckles through the last few hours of the afternoon. Maria sat with her chair tipped back, idly tapping her pencil on the blank page of her sketchbook. She tried a few shapes and scribbles hoping to make something of them, only to erase it all a few seconds later. Eventually she tore it out, wadded it up and tossed it aside. Manolo was scribbling on a piece of paper as well, tweaking a new melody as he tested it again and again. His brows were deeply furrowed, and he rarely looked up from his work.

At the sound of a soft _thump_ from the corner of the room, Maria turned her head. Ofelia was plodding across the floor, slipping on the polished boards. She babbled quietly as she approached her father, sitting next to his leg and wrapping her arms around it as she looked up.

Manolo blinked and frowned, his focus drawn away by the sudden touch. When he looked down, however, he smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair.

Maria watched them for a moment, then went back to her own work. A seconds later, though, she looked up again when she heard Manolo playing a tune she hadn't heard before.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, laughing as Ofelia tried clambering into his lap. He helped her up before continuing to play. His fingers nimbly and swiftly plucked the guitar strings, as though he'd wanted to practice this one to perfection before letting it be heard. He looked at his daughter as he sang, telling a tale of a sweet young princess who was loved by all who encountered her. Ofelia smiled and gurgled, waving her arms and legs as she listened to the music.

Maria set her tools aside and rested her chin in her hand, soaking in the image. Then a jolt ran through her mind, making her grab her pencil and sketchbook again. _I don't want to forget this._ She worked quickly, eyes darting between the page and the scene before her as she formed shapes with careful strokes. Soon she had a simple, blocky picture in her hand.

Manolo looked up as he finished the song and blushed when he saw what she was doing. "It's just something I thought she would like..."

"I'd say it worked, then."

She stayed up late that night, adding details and colors to the sketch. For a time she toyed with idea of painting and framing it. _No,_ she thought. _Not this one._ So she carefully tore it out of the sketchbook and tucked it in the drawer of her bedside table.

It grew wrinkled and worn over the years as she took it out again and again, when she was too happy to sit still or could barely see through her tears. She would stare at it, run a finger along the lines or just hold it to her chest. She never named it, at least not properly. She simply scribbled two words on the back of the paper: _Thank You._


	8. First Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More cute stuff with Manolo and Ofelia, only this time it's a little sillier.

"Papa."

Ofelia gave no response, other than a questioning blink.

_"Pa-pa,"_ Manolo repeated, carefully sounding out the two syllables as he pointed to himself. "Can you say that, _mija?"_

"Aaaaaa."

"Well, that's a start."

The girl's second birthday was fast approaching, and Manolo had made it his mission to guide her incessant chatter into something intelligible before that day came. All day he had sat in the nursery chair with Ofelia in his lap, fruitlessly sounding out every word he could think of in the hopes that she would repeat one of them.

"She'll start when she's ready," Maria told him. "Don't rush her."

"I'm not rushing her! I'm just...making some suggestions, that's all."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "You just want to hear her say 'Papa' first, don't you?"

"It doesn't have to be first." Not that he would complain if it was. All he wanted was to be there when she said it, whatever it happened to be.

At the moment, however, it didn't appear as though she was going to say much of anything.

"How about Mama?" Manolo said, pointing at a self-portrait Maria had drawn in the sketchbook on his lap. _"Ma-ma._ Can you say Ma-ma?"

Ofelia climbed across his lap, peering towards the picture until her face was nearly against it. "Mmmm."

_"Muy bien!_ Can you say the rest?"

"Mmmm." She flopped over and dissolved into a fit of happy giggles.

Once Manolo had managed to calm her down, he sat her in his lap again and started to flip through the sketchbook. Maria had drawn a number of pictures for him to use. Could she say _árbol?_ _Cabra,_ perhaps? How about _toro?_ Each time Ofelia either laughed, gave him a blank stare or squinted at the pictures.

"You're having fun with this, aren't you?" Manolo said as he finally set the book aside.

Ofelia leaned her head against his torso and drooled on his shirt.

"At least one of us is..."

He moved, waking the pig slumbering at his feet. Chuy yawned and stretched, looking up at his two humans with accusing eyes. Ofelia laughed and reached towards him.

"Can you say 'pig'?" Manolo said as he set her down. _"Cerdo?"_

But she was no longer listening, instead trying to get Chuy's attention away from whatever he currently had in his mouth. Said thing being one of Manolo's shoes.

"Chuy!" He snatched it away, trying to wipe off the drool. "No. We talked about this."

_"Cerdo_ no!"

"See?" he continued, nodding smugly. "Ofelia thinks you..." He stopped as the words sank in. "...What?"

_"Cerdo_ no!" Ofelia repeated, giggling as she tried to climb on Chuy's back.

Her father stared at her for several more seconds, then leapt to his feet and raced down the hall. _"Maria!"_


	9. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A humorous/fluffy little piece with La Muerte, Xibalba and Ofelia.

The tar oozed across the cemetery ground like a snake, barely thicker than water. The celebrating people could not see it, but only sense a cool breeze as it slithered through their midst. It was tempered by the warm wind from the flowing stream of marigold petals that zipped and slid through the air.

When they reached a clearing in the middle of the graves, the invisible beings both stopped and took a moment to congeal into their proper forms.

Xibalba flexed his wings, wincing as he heard a light _snap._ "Much better," he muttered, taking out his staff. "This won't be long, will it, dear?"

La Muerte was already gliding through the cemetery, smiling down at the mortals and spirits. "You've always been so impatient."

"When was the last time anything happened here? Three years? Four?"

"Exactly," his wife answered. "I'd almost say it's overdue."

"Then the mortals will take care of it." He chased after her, smirking. "Come, Muertita. Wouldn't you rather celebrate the Day of the Dead _our_ way?"

She smirked back and gently pushed his hand aside. "There's plenty of ways to celebrate, Xibalba."

Some movement near the largest tomb caught her eye, and she smiled. Xibalba skeptically followed her gaze. Beneath the old captain's statue sat Joaquin, with a woman at his side. _Tlaloc's spawn,_ the god realized.

His hand lay over hers, and her head rested on his shoulder. At their feet, a boy and girl barely out of swaddling clothes were playing tug-of-war over a piece of _pan de muerto._

"Hey, kids," Joaquin said with a laugh as he tried to pull them apart. "That's for your grandpa."

Gabriela finally wrenched the bread away from Vicente, who tumbled over and immediately began to wail at the indignity. Giggling, she bashed her prize on the ground, and when nothing came of it, she tossed it aside. It sailed several feet and struck Xibalba right in the face.

He scowled as he wiped it off. _Disgusting._ "It was such a lovely time when water hags weren't able to breed."

La Muerte rolled her eyes. "And the rest of us were so much better at that age."

"Refresh my memory, _mi amor._ What exactly are the positives of children, again?" She didn't answer. "La Muerte?"

The goddess was moving off towards the corner of the graveyard. Her eyes were wide, and the candles lining the hem of her dress flickered a little brighter as she walked. She placed a hand on her chest as she approached the grave she was looking at. "Oh, Balby…"

Xibalba looked. He understood, and yet he didn't.

The Sanchez ancestors were happily clustered around their living relatives. Manolo and Maria sat next to the grave and talked to it as they looked at the sky. Carlos and Carmen sat next to them, unseen but still smiling and nodding at their every word. What caught Xibalba's eye, however, was the small, dark-haired girl in a yellow dress who sat in the younger man's lap.

Manolo laughed as Ofelia reached for the guitar at his feet, pulling the strings. "You're not quite old enough for that, _mija._ Should I play it?"

She grinned and clapped her hands. "Papa!"

"As you wish," he said as he gently set her down.

Xibalba looked askance at it all. "Well, that's nice, now off we go!"

"Really, Xibalba, am I the only thing you think about?"

"I just fail to see how this concerns us, that's all."

"Maria and that girl wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"I suppose not." Although one could say he had grown tolerant of the young Sanchez, the god still wasn't particularly keen on the idea of more humans with his face and hair and opinion of authority. "Wait ten years and then tell me how cute you think she is, boy…"

He felt something tug at the edge of his robe and looked down. There stood the Sanchez girl, smiling up at him. He rolled his eyes and looked away, then suddenly looked back down in astonishment. "Why didn't you tell me I wasn't invisible?"

"We are," La Muerte answered, looking just as confused.

"Then why can she see us?"

They both looked down at Ofelia, who hadn't budged. Wonder and delight was written on the girl's face as she stared at the two strange figures.

"Go away," Xibalba said, trying to shoo her back towards her family. "Move along, nothing to see here."

She merely sat down in front of him, looking up expectantly.

"Very well, Plan B." Xibalba sharpened his teeth, turned his pupils forward and spread out his wings, then knelt in front of the girl and loudly hissed in her face.

Ofelia yelped and recoiled, and for a moment, it appeared as though she might flee. Then she stood up again, giggling and clapping.

_You have **got** to be kidding me._ "Well, your parents can have fun with you, little one," he said. "I'll have no part of it."

Folding his wings, he turned on his heel and swept off.

He was walking through a forgotten corner of the graveyard when he heard it. The light tread of small, curious feet as they ventured where they shouldn't.

"You have quite a lot of your father in you," Xibalba said as he turned around to face the girl. "I'm very sorry."

She came closer and touched one of his staff's heads, running her hand over the purple scales. Then she approached the god himself and tried to put her arms around him, paying no heed to the tar-soaked rags.

_"Land of the Cursed,_ child, what do you _want?"_ he snapped.

"Up."

"Absolutely not."

"Up, up!" she repeated, waving her arms.

Xibalba looked around, hoping there was no one - mainly his wife - around to witness this. Tentatively kneeling down, he scooped Ofelia up in his hands. "Just so you know, I don't have a very good track record with children or Sanchezes…"

She felt the leather of his gloves and the ridges of his armor, then ran her hands through his mustache and down his beard.

He squirmed at the touch. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't - _ow!"_ He nearly dropped the girl as she grabbed his beard and tugged at it. "You see? This is what I'm talking about."

The last voice he wanted to hear at that moment laughed behind him. "Having fun, _mi amor?"_

"Great. _Just_ great."

La Muerte wrapped her arms around him as she looked down at the girl. "Children don't usually grow on you so quickly, Balby."

"Bawbi," Ofelia repeated as she pulled the god's beard again.

"You don't get to call me that."

La Muerte took the girl from her husband and held her close. Ofelia's eyes grew even wider as she took in the bright colors and crystalline skin. "It's very lovely, isn't it?" the goddess said. "But not as lovely as you, _mi querido."_

When she brushed a strand of Ofelia's hair aside, something caught her eye. Two marks on the side of her head, just under her left ear. The discolored spots were distinctly shaped like skulls, and together they seemed to form a heart.

_Strange,_ she thought to herself. _Very strange._

A voice floated towards them from another part of the graveyard. "Ofelia…!"

La Muerte kissed the girl's forehead. "Come along. Your mama and papa are looking for you."

* * *

"Are you sure you haven't seen her, Joaquin?" Manolo and Maria asked their friend for the third time.

"No, but I can ask around."

Manolo started to pace back and forth. "Alright. She can't have wandered off too far…"

"Is this little one yours, by any chance?"

He turned around. Approaching the grave was a small, old woman in a shawl with a bearded, wizened man at her side. Ofelia was in her arms, squirming and reaching out to her parents when she saw them.

"We happened upon her," the woman continued as she handed the girl to Manolo. "Thought someone might be worried about her."

He smiled. _"Gracias."_

The man patted Ofelia's cheek. "You stay out of trouble now. Let's not cause your papa any more trouble."

Manolo handed her to Maria. "We should get you to bed, _mija."_

"Bawbi!" the girl repeated. "Bawbi!"

He froze, then turned back around. "What?"

But the man and woman were already gone.


	10. Babysitting

"Are you sure?" Joaquin asked when Manolo and Maria first came to him with their request. "It's just the next town over, isn't it? You could probably take her along."

"You know how she gets around strangers," Manolo answered. "She won't be any trouble."

"Couldn't the brothers keep an eye on her?"

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding."

"Please, _amigo,"_ Manolo said. "One day. We'll be back by evening, I promise."

It all happened so quickly that Joaquin wasn't entirely sure of the details. Something about Manolo and the Rodriguez brothers being asked to play at some concert or whatnot, and about Maria meeting up with an old friend from school to visit an art gallery. The important thing was that it had somehow ended in agreeing to watch Ofelia while they were gone.

The reluctance didn't stem from any problems with the girl, for he had none. It was that the twins had just passed their third year, and he and Ixa together could barely keep them under control. He shuddered at the thought of three toddlers under his roof, no matter how docile one of them might be.

_Oh, get a grip,_ he told himself. _It's not like it'll be you against them. Ixa can help. They listen to her better anyway._

It was such a shame that his wife had the idea to go to the orphanage in Maria's place that day.

* * *

The floor of the parlor seemed more akin to a battlefield moments before the clashing of armies. On one side of the room was Joaquin, his arsenal of weapons neatly laid out at his side: toys, books, blankets, cleaning rags and some spare sets of clothes. On the other side were the children, sitting in a row. Scheming even as they stared up at him with bright, innocent eyes.

He looked around, making sure everything was in its place and not an inch too far to the left. "Okay," he said as he started to pace. "Vin? Gabby? Aunt Maria and Uncle Manolo can't be in town today, so Ofelia's gonna stay here for a while and play with you. Does that sound good?"

They all nodded. _"Sí."_

"And your mom's out working today, so it's gonna be just the four of us." He took a few uncertain breaths. "But that's alright. Because we're going to have fun! Lots of fun!"

Vicente perked up. "Play!"

Joaquin started to turn around. "That's right, whatever you guys want to play… _except that!"_ He flew across the room and grabbed Vicente, who was trying to tug down the red velvet curtains and the heavy rod they were attached to. "I told you we don't play with the curtains, Vin. We have lots of better games. Right, girls?"

He looked behind him as he heard Ofelia's giggling, just in time to see Gabriela walking towards the cabinet holding his bowie knife collection.

From that moment on, he was never off his feet for more than a few seconds at a time. The children's energy seemed to have no bounds, while he found himself quickly growing short of breath as he chased them up and down the halls of the mansion. They had to be fed, then changed out of the clothes they had stained and kept from making another mess while the first one was cleaned up. They grew tired of the toys and of the games he devised for them, finding much more amusement in squabbling amongst each other and needing to be pulled apart. This, Joaquin noted thankfully, seemed to begin wearing them down. In late afternoon, when he lay them down in a row and put the blankets over them, they did not protest. Before long they appeared to be fast asleep, leaving him to finish cleaning.

"Come on," he muttered, rubbing over and over at a stain on the carpet. "It's just cornmeal. It's supposed to come up. Why isn't it coming up…?"

Somehow he found himself stretched out next to the children, lying on his side. His eyelids were drooping shut, and he was content to let them. Within a few minutes, his snores were echoing off the walls.

Gabriela opened one eye, then the other. Pushing off the blankets, she slowly sat up grinning. "Up," she chirped, shaking her brother and her friend. "Up!"

Vicente was quick to respond, while Ofelia rose slowly with a yawn. "What?"

"Papa not up."

They surrounded Joaquin's head, poking his face and watching him twitch. "He needs nap," Ofelia said, nodding with approval.

Vicente scowled. "No nap. Play!" He pushed his father's head, but the man did not budge.

Gabriela looked at Joaquin for a moment, then smiled. "I get Papa up. Then play."

The other two watched her walk towards the wall nearest the front door, the one Joaquin had always kept his back turned away from. "How?" Ofelia asked.

"Funny toys."

"But he's sleepy."

"He get up," the girl answered, dragging a porcelain doll off the lowest shelf. "Funny toys. Funny Papa."

* * *

He thought he felt something brush against his cheek. A soft cloth and a cold surface. He shrugged it off and moved his head, falling back towards his deep sleep. But something was on the other side of him too, tickling his mustache. Now there was a light weight on his chest, followed by another, and several distant voices were chattering in his ears. "Up! Up!"

Joaquin opened his eyes and lifted his head, groaning at how heavy it felt. "Huh? What…?"

Then he was staring into dead, glassy eyes and porcelain weights covering every inch of his skin. And it was then that he learned just how high he could scream.

* * *

"Well," Maria said, "the house is still standing. Guess that's a good sign."

Manolo pushed open the front door. "Joaquin? We're back! How was…" He looked down. "Oh, there you are."

The children sat on the foyer floor, the girls playing with dolls and Vicente swinging around his toy horse. Ofelia's face lit up as the door opened. "Mama! Papa!" She ran forward to hug them both, and her father picked her up.

"Were you good for Uncle Joaquin today?" Maria asked. "Where is he?"

"I'm okay! I'm okay…"

They both stopped and stared as Joaquin came crawling - no, simply dragging himself - into the room. He flopped over, then curled into a ball at the foot of the stairs. "It was fun…so much fun. So many…"

"So many what?"

He twitched and whimpered.

Vicente and Gabriela laughed at the sight. "Papa funny!"

"Er, Joaquin?" Manolo asked. "Maybe we could take care of the twins tomorrow. You know, to make it up to you."

His friend's head shot up and stared at them with bloodshot eyes. _"Save yourselves."_


	11. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun with the precious cinnamon rolls that are Manolo and Ofelia.

”Where _aaaaare_ yoooou?” Manolo suppressed a laugh as he walked around the dining room with exaggerated steps, pretending not to notice the five-year-old hiding under the table. _"Dónde estás,_ Ofelia? It’s getting very late.”

He heard her giggle from her hiding place and stopped for a moment. “Well,” he said as he turned on his heel and began to walk the other way. “I suppose she’s just too clever for me.” He pulled out a chair and sank into it. “Perhaps I will never see her again. How sad that will be!”

In the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny pair of hands lift up the edge of the the tablecloth and a curious, concerned face begin to peer out. Dropping to his knees, he pulled the cloth up the rest of the way. “Ha! Found you!”

Ofelia gasped before laughing and darting out of his reach. Crawling out the other side of the table, she ran from the room. Her father chased her through the kitchen and into the parlor, laughing as well. He was faster even when out of breath, and when she ducked behind the sofa, he was waiting for her.

_"Epa!"_ he said, scooping Ofelia up in his arms. “You don’t want to be too sleepy to visit your grandparents tomorrow, do you?”

"I’m not sleepy!" she answered, even as she suppressed a yawn.

"Are you sure?"

Ofelia scowled. “I don’t want to go to bed, Papa!”

Manolo smirked. “Not even if I tell you a story?”

The girl paused, as though thinking it over. “Can I pick the story?”

_"Por supuesto._ Do we have a deal?”

She snuggled against him. “Yes, Papa.”

"Then _vamos, princesa!”_ He kissed her nose, then hoisted her onto his shoulders and marched up the stairs while whistling a jaunty tune. “Now which way is it again?”

"Papa, you always forget!"

* * *

By the time they reached Ofelia’s bedroom, her reluctance had gone. She let her father brush her hair and tuck her in, then sat up and watched as he went to the bookshelf.

"Alright, which one do you want to hear tonight?" he asked her.

"I don’t want a book story."

Manolo turned around. “Oh? What sort of story would you like, then?”

"A story from you, Papa. Mama says you know lots."

He sat on the side of the bed, tapping his chin as he thought. “A story from me…” He looked at his daughter and then out the window, where the silhouette of the church glowed against the moon. “I know the perfect one. Wait here a moment.” He left the room, then came back with his guitar. “You’re old enough to hear this story now, I think. You’ll like it.

"She looked at the guitar with curiosity. "Is it a special story?"

"It’s the most special story I know." He sat beside her again. "Do you know what tomorrow is called?"

Ofelia nodded. “The Day of the Dead.”

"And do you know what the Day of the Dead is for?"

She thought about it, then shook her head.

"It’s the day when we can visit with our loved ones who came before us. They can come up from the Land of the Remembered and be with us again for one night."

"What’s the Land of the Remembered?"

He grinned. “Only the most wonderful place you can imagine! It’s where the dead go when they have people in the Land of the Living to remember them. They have fiestas every day, and there is always music and colors and happiness.”

"It sounds great!"

"It does. But it’s not great for everyone." His expression turned grave. "You see, the land of the dead is divided into two kingdoms. One is the Land of the Remembered, and the other is called the Land of the Forgotten. That’s where the dead go when there is no one to remember them. It’s dark and gray, and those who go there have hardly any hope of getting out again. All they can do is think about how unhappy they are, until they become so sad that they turn to dust. Then they are truly gone."

Ofelia’s eyes grew wide, and she hid under her covers. “I don’t want to go there, Papa.”

"And you shall never have to, _mija.”_ He took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Now, these two lands each had a god to rule over them. The Land of the Remembered was ruled by a beautiful lady called La Muerte. She was made of sugar and candy, and she believed that humans were pure and good.”

"What about the Land of the Forgotten?"

"That place was ruled by a god called Xibalba. He was made of tar and all the other nasty things in the world, and he believed that humans were just as nasty as him."

They both seemed very familiar, Ofelia thought, as though she had seen them in a dream once.

"The story begins a long time ago…"

"How long?"

"Before you were born, and before your mama and I were married."

She gasped. “That _is_ a long time.”

"La Muerte and Xibalba loved to make wagers, especially on mortals. It happened that on one Day of the Dead, they decided to make another. They found two boys who were the best of friends, a soldier and a _guitarrista.”_

"Like you and Uncle Joaquin!" 

_"Exactly_ like me and Uncle Joaquin. They were both friends with a girl, the loveliest you could think of. And even before they were old enough to know what love was, they had both been in love with her. The gods could tell, and so they bet on which boy would marry her. La Muerte bet on the _guitarrista,_ while Xibalba bet on the soldier. If Xibalba won, he would get to rule the Land of the Remembered, so he was determined to win no matter what it took.”

"Did the girl know?"

"No, she didn’t. None of the mortals knew. Everyone in town wanted the girl to marry the soldier, but she wasn’t in love with him. She loved the _guitarrista._ So one morning, on another Day of the Dead, he went to her and asked her to marry him. She almost said yes, too. But Xibalba was watching, and he was crafty…”

Ofelia listened in wonder as he spun the tale: how Xibalba sent a snake whose bite put the girl in a trance, and how her true love gave up his own life because he thought her dead. He found himself in the Land of the Remembered, where he discovered the god’s treachery and embarked on a journey to find La Muerte and make things right again. With the help of his family and of new friends, he began writing his own story and overcame his fear of being himself. He even used his music to make amends with the thousands of _toros_ that his bullfighting family had killed. Her father played her the song - he seemed to know all of the songs which the man in the story knew. In the end, he won back his life from Xibalba and returned to the Land of the Living just in time to help his friends fight a fearsome bandit king and save their town. The girl’s joy at seeing him again was so boundless that they were wed the same day.

"And from that day on," Manolo finished, "they were all very happy."

Ofelia leaned back on her pillows and smiled. “That was the best story ever, Papa.”

"I think so, too."

"But how did you know about it?"

He smirked. “That’s a secret. Besides, you might not believe me if I told you.”

"I would! I promise!"

Manolo leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. “Even if I told you that I was the _guitarrista?”_

He watched her jaw drop, and her eyes bug out with amazement. “If you want, you can ask Mama if it’s true. But in the morning.” He kissed her forehead. _"Buenas noches."_

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. _“Te amo, Papa.”_

_"Te amo también."_ He stood, put out the light and left the door ajar as he went away.

Sleep took the girl not long after, in spite of her racing mind. When she drifted off, she dreamt of faraway realms and adventures, and of a brave father who seemed mightier than any god.


	12. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More cute stuff with the kids.

It didn't take long for Manolo and Maria to notice that something was off in the way their daughter looked at a book. She always held it close to her face, squinting before she sounded out the words or commented on the pictures. When they asked her about it, she told them it was fine, that her eyes had always been that way. This, of course, merely spurred them to further action.

Things happened rather quickly after that, Ofelia mused, and now here she was.

At first she thought she would never grow used to how the round spectacles felt on her face. The frame was thin, silver-colored wire that rested on her nose and hooked around her ears. She scrunched up her nose, feeling the new weight constrain it. The first few times she tried to take them off, she pulled forward rather than up and found them stuck.

Then there were the lenses. Thick circles of glass which made her eyes seem even larger than they already were. When she first saw her reflection while wearing them, she frowned. "I look funny."

Maria hugged her from behind, resting her head on her shoulder. "I think they look very nice on you, _mija._ You'll get used to them. You can see much better now, can't you?"

That part was wonderful beyond description. All this time, and she'd had no idea what she had been missing out on. But now she could see everything: her parents' smiling faces, the vibrant colors of her mother's paintings, the words that leapt out at her from the pages of her books. She stayed inside for days catching up on her reading.

Of course, that was not the only reason she confined herself.

She had gotten the glasses a few days before the end of the school year, and in those few short days, the other children had managed to cram in enough mockery to make up for all the lost time. There were a number of names - "four eyes," "bug face," "blind bat." They would sneak up behind her and snatch them off her face, then cackle as she tried to grab them back or stumble around looking for them. She took them off and hid them whenever she could, glumly retreating back to the blurry, lesser reality.

She had thought herself safe with the onset of summer and the freedom it brought. Then she could wear the spectacles to her heart's content and feel no fear of shame. But the weather was fair, and her parents thought some time outside would do her good. She did as they wished and went out to the square, taking a book with her. Perhaps she could find a hiding spot, avoid the storm that would brew forth if she showed her face.

That had been the plan, anyway.

* * *

_"Oye!_ Bug face!"

Ofelia slumped against the stones of the fountain basin, pulling her book closer to her face.

Clacking footsteps stalked towards her. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, bug face."

She looked up into the smug visage of the girl standing above her. _"Hola,_ Elena."

All the children in the square were crowding around the two of them now, eager to see what the torment of the day would be. "We haven't seen you since school, Ofelia."

"I've been busy."

"Why don't you play with us?" Elena suggested, smirking. "We can play tag. You'll be it."

She reached for the glasses. Ofelia scrambled out of her reach, only to bump into several boys that were boxing her in. "Please leave me alone…"

"And why would we do that?"

"Because she can send ghosts after you!"

The mob turned around. A boy and girl stood atop a pile of crates, brandishing wooden swords as they looked down on the group.

Elena scowled. "She can't do that!"

"Oh, she can." Gabriela jumped down from her perch and ambled towards the others, her blue eyes sparkling as her boots clicked on the cobblestones. "Didn't she tell you? Those are magic glasses. She can see the dead when she wears them, and they only work on her!"

"Prove it!"

"I bet there's lots of spirits here right now," Vicente declared, cutting through the crowd to help Ofelia up. "Tell us who you see, _amiga!"_

Ofelia pushed the spectacles back up her nose. "I see…" She gasped as she craned her neck back, pretending to look at something very large. "I see Chakal! He's right behind you!"

Gabriela abruptly flung herself to the ground, writhing in apparent pain. "He's got me! He's gonna squish me!"

Ofelia and Vicente held back their giggles at the scene, but it seemed sufficient for the other children. They ran from the square, shrieking and crying.

Gabriela's shouts dissolved into laughter as she got back to her feet. "Did you like that? It was my idea."

"But you know I don't need the - "

_"Sí,"_ Vicente said. "But now they won't bother you, right?"

She nodded, then hugged them both. _"Gracias."_

Gabriela broke free and raised her sword again. "So, can we play now?"

"I'd like that."

"Then it's all up to you!" Gabriela said as she and Vicente took a fighting stance. "Tell us where the ghosts are!"

Ofelia laughed and climbed onto the steps of the fountain. "There's a mean bandit right beside you! To the left! No, Vicente's left!"

The twins swung and jabbed their swords at the air, and the three amigos battled the afternoon away.


	13. Like Father, Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joaquin and Vicente have a little bonding time.

”What’s on Papa’s eye?” Vicente asked his mother as he lay stretched out on the sitting room floor one afternoon.

Ixa glanced up from her sewing. “An eyepatch.”

"Why’s he have it?"

"He gave up his eye many years ago, and he wears the patch to cover the wound."

The boy considered this for a moment. “Can I have an eyepatch too?”

"You have no need for one, _mijo.”_

Vicente said no more, for he had gone deep into thought. It all became very logical, at least in his mind: if his father wore an eyepatch because he needed one, then if he wanted one to match, then he would need to have one as well.

First he sprinkled dust and sand in his eye, hoping that would do the trick, but his mother found him and marched him inside to wash it out. He rubbed in the soap as deeply as he could in spite of how much it stung. His vision was watery for a time, but it cleared up soon afterwards.

"I could punch you!" Gabriela offered cheerfully.

"No thanks." Not even in this moment of desperation would he stoop so low. Besides, a black eye would heal. There had to be something more…permanent.

* * *

_"Buenas noches!"_ Joaquin called out as he walked through his front door and saw Ixa sitting in the parlor. “Sorry I’m late. They needed help cleaning up the market. Some huge mess there! Wagons turned over and everything. A couple stalls, too.”

"I know," she answered.

"You saw what happened?"

"I heard all about it from Señor Olmos when he brought Vicente home."

Joaquin bit his lip. “Oh…”

She nodded and motioned for him to sit beside her. “He opened the chicken pen. Tried getting them to follow him, Señor said.”

Her husband sank onto the sofa. “What made him think that?”

"He was throwing them pieces of bread. And he had some tied around his eye."

"He had _what?_ Where’s he now?”

"Upstairs," Ixa answered. "I told him to wait for you."

"Why me?"

She gave Joaquin a look. “He’s been acting strange ever since he asked me about your eyepatch.”

"You didn’t tell me that."

"I did not think he meant anything more by it." She sighed. "He wouldn’t tell me why."

"So you think I should try talking to him?"

"I think that is what he wants."

"…What should I say?"

She scowled at him outright and nodded towards the stairs, so off he went.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hall and through his mind as he walked. He thought of what his own father might have done, but that offered no answers. Then he remembered his mother’s cold looks, and the general screaming until he was red in the face whenever his charge took a step out of line. Those wouldn’t do, not for Vin.

Then again, being too soft wouldn’t do either.

He knocked on his son’s door, then pushed it open. “You in here, Vin?”

The five-year-old was sprawled across the messy bed, his feet resting on the headboard. When he saw his father, he sat up and looked the other way, hugging his knees.

"Hey," Joaquin said, putting on a smile.

"Hi…"

He sat next to the boy. “I heard you caused some trouble in the market today.”

"I won’t do it again."

"Well, that’s good. But we still need to talk."

Vicente winced, as though bracing for a thunderclap.

"I’m not mad at you, Vin, not really."

"Yes, you are. Señor said you would be."

He raised an eyebrow. “What else did he say?”

The boy curled further into himself. “He said I wasn’t good enough for you to be my papa.”

Joaquin stiffened and made a mental note to have a very long conversation with the old man next time they crossed paths. Then he forced himself to sigh, and some of the tension drained away as he exhaled. “That isn’t true. And I’m not here because of what you did to the market - okay, that’s part of it. I’m here because you could have hurt yourself, Vin. You could have hurt a bunch of people. What were you _thinking?_ You can’t just - “

"I was trying to be brave."

He paused, looking at his son in confusion. “What?”

"You’re brave." Vicente gestured to the eyepatch, then to his own bruised eye. "I want to be brave, too."

"…Is that what this is about?"

The boy nodded. “I guess I can’t.”

Joaquin rested his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. Finally he looked up. “It’s not that you can’t. It’s that you shouldn’t have to.”

"But - "

"Just listen, alright? I didn’t have a choice when I got this. You do."

"But you’re a hero, Papa!"

The words silenced Joaquin again. He bit his lip, trying to find his way around the mess of thoughts that had just been brought on.

"I want to be a hero like you," Vicente continued. "With an eyepatch and medals."

"…You know what the funny thing about heroes is?" Joaquin asked him. "There’s a lot of kinds. Not all of them have the same things to show for it. Uncle Manolo doesn’t have an eyepatch or medals."

Vicente nodded. “But the kind you are is the best.”

"No, the kind _you_ are is the best.” He smiled and shook his head when the boy gave him a blank stare. “I wanted to be just like my dad when I was a kid, too. But I couldn’t. You know why? Because I wasn’t him. It wasn’t my fault, that’s just the way it was. I was never a real hero, not until I got out of his shadow. That’s what you need to do, Vin.” He put an arm around his son. “I don’t want you to be _just_ like me. You need to figure out who you are. Can you do that?”

Vicente paused, then smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

"And no more trying to put your eye out."

"So I can’t punch him, then?"

_"Mija!"_

The boys looked up to see Gabriela and Ixa standing in the doorway. “It was just an idea,” the girl said.

Ixa looked askance at her daughter. “You most certainly may not.”

She did a few days later, of course. Once Ixa had finished tending to Vicente’s black eye, Joaquin tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the bathroom mirror. “I have something for you.”

The boy’s face lit up as his father slipped a small, black patch embroidered with a green **V** over his eye. “Really?”

Joaquin nodded. “Now you can tell everyone you’ve got a little bit of me with you, no matter what.”

Vicente leapt up and hugged him before running off, stumbling down the stairs as he went. “I’m going to show Señor Olmos!”

He chuckled. “You do that, _mijo.”_


	14. Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun with the kids.

The storm clouds came out of nowhere, turning the sky above San Angel a dark gray. A few minutes later, fat raindrops came showering down, staining the cobblestones and soaking the bones of whatever poor souls didn't get inside in time.

Maria saw it coming before the children playing in the garden did. Opening a window, she stuck her head out and called down to them. "Kids! Time to come in!"

Ofelia nodded and hurried for the door. Vicente and Gabriela remained in place, wooden swords still raised, trying to gauge the time it would take to vault over the fence into their own backyard.

"Vin, Gabby, you too," Maria said, beckoning. "You can stay here until it passes."

"We can go home, Señora Sanchez! It's fine!" Gabriela answered, even while dodging raindrops.

"Not if you get caught in this and give your parents another fright."

"But - "

_"Vamos!"_

At that moment, a peal of thunder rattled the sky and sent down a steady stream of rain. Dropping their toys, the twins stumbled across the yard and into the safety of Casa de Sanchez.

* * *

"It's just rain," Gabriela muttered as she and her brother stared out the window.

"Exactly," Maria said. "You don't need to let it ruin your fun."

"We won't." After all, rain didn't disapprove of sword fights in the house when you were visiting.

Maria smiled and went upstairs, sketchbook in hand. The twins waited until she was gone to slide away from the window and onto the parlor floor.

_"Ay,_ Ofelia," Vicente groaned. "How do you manage it?"

Ofelia looked up, a hand still resting on Chuy's head. "What do you mean?"

_"This!"_ he exclaimed, waving his arms. "Your house being so boring!"

"No offense," his sister added.

The older girl simply gave them her usual small smile. "I know what we can do. Something _special."_

Vicente and Gabriela perked up as they looked at her. "Really?"

"Yeah! Come on!" Getting to her feet, she led her friends up the stairs and down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Vicente asked as the three of them ran past Ofelia's room.

"You'll see."

They skidded to a stop at the end of the hall, in front of a set of double doors. Stretching to reach one of the handles, Ofelia grasped it and pulled the door open. _"This,"_ she said proudly, "is the greatest place in San Angel."

The twins grinned and barreled into the room, only to freeze as soon as they were inside. It was large, probably the largest in the house. A sofa sat in the middle of the floor, next to a side table with a lamp. Colorful rugs covered the polished boards. A fireplace was set in the east wall, beneath one of Maria's paintings. The other three walls were covered in packed bookshelves.

Vicente and Gabriela gaped, but not in awe. "You've got to be kidding!"

Ofelia stifled a laugh as she followed them in. "Oh?"

"This is just a bunch of books," Gabriela said, scowling. "You said this would be fun."

"You don't think books are fun?"

Vicente shuddered and shook his head. _"No es posible!_ Why would you sit around looking at words when you could go play? Or have an adventure!"

Ofelia walked past him, towards one of the lower shelves, and pulled out a book. "Mama's been reading this one to me," she said, flipping through its pages. "You'd like it."

"Are there bandits?"

"No…"

The twins rolled their eyes and started to walk away.

"…It's much worse."

Vicente stopped and turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "There's nothing worse than bandits, Ofelia."

"Not even villains who pretend to be heroes?"

Now she had the attention of both twins. "How do they do that?" Gabriela demanded.

"They're in the army." She sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. "They go throughout the land hurting people, and anyone who stands up to them gets thrown in jail."

The twins gaped. "Who's the hero, then?"

"A good bandit," Ofelia answered. "He only robs bad people. He gives what he steals to the poor, and he's the only one brave enough to fight the army men. He calls himself Señor Zorro, but everyone wants to know who he _really_ is." She turned her attention to the book, seemingly ignoring the twins.

Vicente sat next to her, trying to surreptitiously look at the pages. "So…who is he really?"

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't reached the end yet." Then she looked up and smiled at them. "Would you like to find out with me?"

* * *

Manolo knocked on the library door. _"Niños?_ Are you in here?"

Ofelia's voice came from within. "Yes, Papa!"

Opening the door, he raised his eyebrows and then smiled at the sight before him. The children were huddled together on the sofa, their eyes glued to the book in Ofelia's lap, Vicente and Gabriela sat on either side of her, grappling for the best view, while she tilted the book to help them see. They all looked up as Manolo stepped into the room.

"What is it, Papa?" Ofelia asked.

"I just came to tell you it's starting to get late…"

"We don't have to leave, do we?" Gabriela said, suddenly growing frantic. "We just got to the part where Captain Ramón arrests the Pulidos! We can't stop now!"

"I was going to say that the rain still hasn't let up," Manolo continued. "Your parents said you can spend the night here."

They all nodded. "Can we keep reading the book?"

"As long as you're ready for bed by - "

They drowned him out with their cheers, then promptly returned to the story. Even hours later, when they were supposed to be sound asleep in Ofelia's room, they sat next to the window and whispered to each other as they made out the words by the moonlight.

"Do you have more books like this?" Gabriela asked.

Ofelia smiled victoriously to herself. "Lots."


	15. Cartography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins wreak havoc.

"Gabriela?" Ixa asked, knocking on her daughter's door. "Are you almost ready?"

The girl looked up from her book, drifting back to reality in the process. "Ready for what?"

"For church!"

Gabriela paused, and then her eyes widened. "Yes! I-I mean, almost! Just a minute, Mama!" Throwing the book aside, she ran to grab the frilly Sunday dress hanging on her closet door, wrestle into it, slip on her shoes and hurry out the door.

She and her brother had eagerly lapped up the story Ofelia showed them, and hardly a week had passed before she returned asking about more. Manolo and Maria perfectly happy to open up the contents of the Sanchez library to her: "You can take home a few if you'd like," they even said.

She looked at the shelves with hesitation, rocking back and forth on her feet. "So…which are the good ones?"

Ofelia ran her hands along the spines, eventually pulling out a yellow and green one. "How about this? There's a girl and a tornado and a faraway land. It's an adventure!"

The adventures - those were her favorites. Stories of brave explorers who found themselves in lost realms, sought out treasures and raced around the world.

"Have you ever seen places like this?" she asked her father after church that day, in the midst of an energized ramble about dinosaurs.

He laughed. "No, can't say I have."

 _Then I will,_ she thought to herself. _I'll be the first._

Now she only needed a place to start.

* * *

 

"A map of the town."

"Yes!"

Vicente wrinkled his nose and looked at her askance. "I didn't know you got lost that easy."

"It's not for finding my way. It's for keeping track of what we're going to find." Stacking papers, Gabriela began putting them into a satchel.

"We?"

"There could be a lot of things here we've never seen before, Vin! Maybe even secrets in what we have seen before. We need to go everywhere to make sure we have everything in the right spot. It'll be our first adventure!"

_"We?"_

She looked up from the small spyglass she was adjusting. "Aren't you coming?"

"Yeah! But you should have asked first." He grabbed his eye patch and the wooden sword that was resting against the wall, while she slung the satchel's long strap over her shoulder. "So," he continued, "where to first?"

"Somewhere with a good view."

* * *

 

"You weren't kidding!" Vicente exclaimed, looking down from the ledge of the bell tower. "You can see every house in town from up here… _woah!"_

Gabriela leapt up and pulled him back to safety by the collar of his shirt. "Watch your feet!"

"What about you?" he asked, pointing to where her inkwell had been just before she'd kicked it off the platform.

"…That's why I brought a pencil."

Two stories below, a group of nuns shrieked in terror as they abruptly and literally found themselves blue in the face.

* * *

 

Gabriela looked from the statue of Captain Mondragon in the square, then down at the piece of paper in her brother's hands. "Why is a cat eating his face?"

"That's his mustache…"

"And where's his eyes?" She gestured to the two large black holes on the drawing's face.

"Those are his eyes!"

"Looks more like you blew his brains out twice."

"You draw him, then!"

He shoved the small sketch towards her, and she angrily shoved it back. A passing soldier craned his neck to look at them and tripped over a stone, which startled a nearby chicken, which shot into the air and laid an egg out of terror, which fell through a hole in the cantina roof and onto the head of a burly, intoxicated farmer. Legend said it was three days later when the bar fight finally ended.

* * *

 

"Where'd they go? _Where'd they go?"_

"There! You can catch them if I throw you!"

"I'm not doing that!"

Gabriela sighed and jumped up herself, grasping at the lost papers which the wind swept away from her at the last moment.

Vicente suddenly paused. "Did you hear something?"

"Hurry up!"

He shrugged and ran on, oblivious to the trail of overturned crates, broken carts and collapsed awnings in his and his sister's wake.

* * *

 

Joaquin looked up as the sitting room door creaked opened, then smiled as the twins marched inside. "I was wondering if you two were ever going to come out of your room today."

"We've been busy, Papa," Gabriela said. She was holding her arms behind her back, and both children had broad smiles plastered on their faces.

"Busy with what?"

Bounding up to him, Gabriela placed a large scroll in his lap and unfurled it. _"This!"_

They had sketched out the lake and the island, meticulously placing and labeling the squares and rectangles that were each building. There were little drawings here and there, too: chickens, pigs, churros, flowers, faces of friends and family over their houses and their own grinning faces with raised swords in the middle of the square.

Joaquin's jaw dropped. "That is…wow."

"I did half of it!" Vicente chirped.

"It was my idea!"

"Well, good for you, Bry," their father said. "It looks great."

"I'm going to use it when I go on adventures," Gabriela continued. "You think it's a good adventure map?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

They cheered and ran off to show their mother. Joaquin happily shook his head as he watched them go, oblivious to the dull roar from the furious crowd gathering outside the Mondragon house.


	16. Another Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids and the gods meet up. Important revelations to follow.

Coming here tonight was her first memory, one she had held on to all her life. It was still clear in her mind: the lights, the peacefulness, the wonder, the smiling faces gathered around each tomb.

You had to pretend on every other day. But this night, Ofelia thought to herself, was when the graveyard _truly_ came alive.

"This is a night for evil deeds," Vicente said, chuckling as he pretended to twirl the false mustache stuck to his face. "And I shall begin with one for _you!"_

Leaping out of the shadows, he landed in front of the gave Ofelia was sitting on and brandished his wooden sword. "Hand over the book, _señorita!"_

 _"Dios mío!"_ the girl exclaimed in mock fear, holding back her laughter. "Is there no hero around to come and save me?"

"I will!"

Vicente yelped as Gabriela tackled him to the ground and stood over him with a foot on his chest. "It is I, the hero of San Angel! The defender of the helpless! The fly in your _guacamole!"_

Her brother scrambled to his feet. "So I could just pick you up with my fingers and - _ow!"_

Weapons were dropped, and missed punches quickly turned to feeble slaps. "No poking!"

"I'll poke whatever I want!"

"You're a girl, you can't throw a - "

_"Say that again!"_

Ofelia rolled her eyes and returned to her book. "I'm still trying to read, you know."

The twins smiled sheepishly. "Sorry!" Vicente said before grabbing his sword and running off with Gabriela on his heels. The older girl smiled and snickered as they disappeared.

"…such fools…"

Wait. What was that?

"…just children, my dear…"

The voices were faint, low, floating on the air. Ofelia looked around, trying to decipher their source. No soul in this part of the graveyard but hers. Maybe it was just someone visiting, or someone new.

Why had they sounded so familiar, then?

Carefully setting down her book, she picked up a candle and slipped off into the night.

* * *

The graves behind the church were the oldest, and always dark. If the stones weren't worn down or succumbing to foliage, they were blank or had names carved in Latin and old glyphs. Ofelia brushed the dust off of them as she passed.

"Hello?" she called out, looking around. "Is anyone here?" This was where the voices had gone, she was sure of it.

"What is she doing…?"

She turned in the direction of the voice, holding up the candle, and she thought she saw a blurry shape leave behind black feathers as it flitted away. She crept towards the spot where it had been, trying not to tremble. "I know you're there. I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're worried about. Please come out."

A dark head began to peek out from behind one of the tombstones, and then…

_"BOO!"_

Ofelia screamed and dropped the candle, which promptly went out. "What are you two doing?"

Vicente and Gabriela laughed as they emerged from their hiding spot. "Being ghosts," the girl answered with a smirk.

"Did you hear anything?"

"No," said Vicente. "Did you?" Faint shadows of gold and green seemed to be flickering on his face.

"Someone's watching us." Ofelia looked around for the source of the new light. "From back here."

"It's probably just a - "

Ofelia froze, then gasped and spun the twins around. "Look!"

"At what?"

"Don't you see them?"

Two figures, the tallest she had ever seen, were standing and looking at the trio from several feet away. One was a beautiful woman with sparkling, colorful skin and long black hair. The hem of her long red dress pooled on the ground, and her large hat was covered in marigolds and candles. The figure next to her was a blackened, armored skeleton with feathery dark wings, a silver crown and a long purple staff carved in the form of a snake. Their pensive expressions turned to alarm when Ofelia met their gaze, and they backed away.

The girl hurried after them. "Wait! Please don't leave."

The woman approached her, curiosity and concern written on her face. "Are we visible to you, child?"

She nodded. "You don't need to be afraid. We aren't going to hurt you."

The man rolled his red, skull-like eyes. "As if you could."

His companion gave him a dark look before they both nodded at each other. Their bodies seemed to shimmer for a moment, then settled once again. The twins' eyes bugged out as they jumped back screaming.

"What's wrong?" Ofelia asked.

"They can see us now," the man answered, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Your kind can't most of the time. Mortals, I mean. You must have quite a lot of questions - "

"I know who you are."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"You're La Muerte. From the Land of the Remembered."

She smiled. "Perhaps."

Ofelia looked at the man. "And you. You're Xibalba, aren't you?"

He smirked and nodded. "Sounds like you've been spying on us, girl."

"I think I saw you a long time ago." She held back the twins, who were raising their swords and taking a fighting stance. "And my papa told me about you."

"That must have been interesting."

La Muerte knelt down. "What's your name, dear?"

"Ofelia."

"And how old are you?"

"Nine."

"I thought so." She reached out and gently pushed a strand of the girl's hair behind her ear, looking at the small birthmark it had been covering. "You're a very brave girl, Ofelia. Pure of heart, too."

"Your friends need a little work, though," Xibalba muttered.

"We heard that!"

La Muerte rolled her eyes. "I hope you'll look after them," she said to Ofelia. "And your parents."

She nodded. "I will."

"Then none of you have anything to be worried about."

"Ofelia?" a voice called out. "Are you back here?"

The girl and the two gods turned in its direction, but the twins did not. "Someone's coming," Xibalba said, stiffening.

La Muerte looked confused. "How is - "

"It's alright," Ofelia said, walking towards the voice. "I'm here, _abuela!"_

The gods fled to the church rooftop and watched as the blue, translucent form of Carmen Sanchez walked towards the children. She sighed in relief when she saw Ofelia. "We've been wondering where you went, _mija._ You left your book."

"Sorry," the girl answered. "I was…" She turned back towards the spot where the gods had been. "Where'd they go?"

"Who?"

"I'll tell everyone later." She went to Carmen's side and walked with her back towards the light, gesturing for the twins to follow.

Xibalba raised an eyebrow as he watched them go. "Does that answer your question?"

La Muerte's eyes were wide. "Has something like this ever happened before?"

"There's a lot to do with that family which hasn't happened before." He stroked the head of his staff. "Something she got from her father, I'd wager."

"Or from your realm."

_"Perdón?"_

"She said she was nine."

"So what?"

"Do you remember that night ten years ago? When we were hiding from your brother?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember where Manolo and Maria were?"

Xibalba paused before his eyes slowly bugged out with realization "…Alone."

"That would explain the mark." She touched the one under her own ear, the sigil of being tied to the domain of the dead.

Her husband groaned and rubbed his temples. "It's amazing how much easier my life would be if those two could keep their hands off each other - "

"Oh, like _you_ can't relate."

"Point taken."

They watched the souls mingling below. "Do you think her parents know?" La Muerte asked after a while.

Xibalba looked towards the Sanchez graves. Ofelia was proudly showing her book to Jorge and Carmelo, while Manolo's back was turned on the scene as he tended to his parents' resting place. "I think we would know if she did," he replied.

"…What do you think will come of this, Balby?" There was fear in her voice, faint but unmistakable.

"I don't know," he said. "Perhaps we're not the ones supposed to find out."


	17. A Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More cute Sanchez family stuff.

“You don’t need to run so fast, _mija._ We’ve got all night.”

“But they’re all waiting for us!”

Manolo shook his head and smiled to himself. Since her first Day of the Dead, Ofelia had been like this every year. Knowing the truth, he couldn’t blame her one bit.

Twilight had come, painting the sky with deep shades of dark blue and violet. The sun had vanished by now, and the moon was slowly rising over San Angel. The churchyard was already quite crowded, glowing with the light from dozens of candles as people sang and joked and made their way around the graves. The place was teeming with lives gone and lives still being written, mingling together for a few short hours.

Ofelia ran ahead of her parents carrying a basket full of marigolds and several loaves of _pan de muerto_ she had helped her mother bake. Manolo struggled to keep up with her as he ascended the hill, holding a basket of small gifts in one arm and using the other to steady his wife. Maria was five months along now, the distension of her belly clear and growing as she took careful steps. The three of them crossed the yard, greeting friends and family as they walked.

By the time Manolo and Maria reached the Sanchez graves, Ofelia was already quite settled in. _“Hola a todos!”_ she called out, darting around placing down flowers and bread. “How are you? Is _abuelo_ coming? Oh, there you are!” A breeze brushed through her curls, as though a hand was ruffling them. She giggled, stretched up on her toes and kissed the air. “Sorry we’re late. Papa didn’t want Mama to walk too quickly. They have a surprise for you.”

The coolness in the air circled around Manolo and Maria, making the candles around the graves flicker. Manolo helped his wife sit down and remained at her side, looking around. Nearly every tomb had someone caring for it tonight: old men and women dusted off headstones while wearing their finest outfits, while younger folk told stories to tombs and children ran around pretending to play with lost pets once again.

Closing his eyes, Manolo tried to imagine the dead standing alongside the living. The sight he knew was already a welcome and enchanting one - to his daughter, it must be magical.

“What is it, Papa?”

Ofelia’s voice drew him back to reality. “I was just thinking.”

She sat next to him, hints of concern in her large eyes as she looked up at him. “What were you thinking about?”

“Is…everyone here? Right now?”

The girl nodded and pointed towards Anita’s headstone. _“Grande bisabuela_ is knitting a hat for Carmelo. And you see where all the nuns are? _Bisabeulo_ Luis is telling them that story about the three bulls again. And _abuela’s_ sitting next to you, Mama.”

“You don’t say,” Maria said, raising her eyebrows before suddenly stiffening. Something was lightly touching her belly - a cool hand, perhaps, had there been one.

Ofelia smiled, then observed her father’s still-pensive expression. “Would you like to talk with them?”

Her father looked startled. “Would I what?”

“I know you can’t hear them, but they can hear you. I can tell you what they’re saying.”

“You don’t have to do that - “

But Ofelia had already leapt up and run off. When she returned, she was beckoning to an invisible figure. “Here’s _abuelo,”_ she said, patting the spot next to her as she sat down again.

“…Papa?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Ofelia smiled. “He says he’s missed you too.”

They stayed there all night as the gap between them was briefly bridged. They spoke of home, of the Land of the Remembered, of the past and the future, of music and bullfighting. Carmen asked Maria when the new baby was coming, and stories of children and husbands were traded. The other Sanchezes soon gathered around, eager to have a word with their living relatives. Ofelia remained in the center of it all the whole time, a proud smile on her face as she allowed them all to have a voice.

When they finally paused to look around, they were the only ones left in the graveyard. The candles were melting and burning out, and the moon was disappearing behind the church.

Ofelia’s smile faded. _“Abuelo_ says it’s time to leave now.”

“But…” Manolo paused, as though suddenly remembering. “Alright…alright…”

Two pairs of arms wrapped around him, and a hand stroked his hair. “They’re saying _adios,”_ Ofelia murmured.

_“Adios,”_ Manolo whispered back, his voice cracking.

The sun slipped into view, its rays touching the headstones. The air around the huddled mortals suddenly grew warm, and all was silent.

“Papa?” Ofelia said, seeing her father rub his eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to keep you all night, mija.”

She leaned her head against him. “I don’t mind, Papa.”

Manolo smiled and embraced her. _“Gracias…”_

They lingered a while longer by the graves, and when they finally left, they all walked home hand in hand.


	18. Medals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shot about Joaquin and the twins.

“One hundred and sixteen!” General Posada crowed when the Mondragon twins asked him if their father had ever gotten any medals. “Nearly as many as your grandfather. I ought to know, I pinned every last one on him. All thanks to my training, you know, no matter what he tells you.”

Vicente and Gabriela had heard Joaquin mention having some medals in passing - “a few,” as he put it. But something that glorious? That had never been spoken of, and they found it very odd. If their father had been as successful as the general claimed, then why did he not wear his medals? Or even put them on display? Where _were_ they, anyhow?

“They’re in a box, I believe,” Ixa told them when they asked her. “In one of the closets. Or perhaps the attic. I know not for certain. He put them away before we met. I’ve never been able to find them.”

The twins were not their mother, however, and after a whole afternoon of scouring every shelf in every closet in the mansion, there was only one more place the box could be.

Gabriela flew into a coughing fit the moment she stepped through the attic door. The dust seemed to have a mind of its own, floating back towards her whenever she swatted it away. She shrieked furiously, trying to shake her braids clean and nearly kicking over a lantern in the process.

“Quiet!” Vicente snapped in a whisper, pulling the lantern away in order to light it. “Mama could hear you!”

“Mama’s in the garden.” She looked around the surprisingly bare attic, her small mouth twisting into a scowl. “Papa wouldn’t hide his medals like this if they were fun.”

“Of course they’re fun! They’re Papa’s!” her brother said, sounding more confident than he really was. “Maybe he put them away so we would find them and ask him about them.”

“You know Papa doesn’t think that far ahead.”

“Just start looking!”

There weren’t many places to look: the Mondragon attic was mostly old chests and burlap sacks containing outgrown clothes, spare supplies from the barracks and the occasional birthday or _Navidad_ present. The twins rooted through it all, and then did so again. On the third time, they happened to glance around and catch sight of something new. A small box of dark wood had been tucked into the most shadowy corner of the room, partially covered by a threadbare blanket. The children found their find heavier than it looked when they pulled it into the open, and its contents clattered about metallically as it moved. There was no padlock, as with the other boxes; only a small latch held it shut.

Sharing a glance of trepidation, the twins undid the latch and slowly lifted the lid.

They were all mixed together in one large pile, and a number of them were covered in dust and worn down with age, but they still gleamed. They were gold and silver and bronze and iron, inlaid with polished rocks or flaunting designs etched into the metal. Some had elaborate images sewn or painted in their centers. Most had ribbons in bright and numerous shades, furled out like tiny flags. They were shaped like circles and squares, diamonds and triangles, hearts and eagles with spread wings. And there were, as the twins learned when they had all been dumped and meticulously counted, _exactly_ one hundred and sixteen.

“What do you think he got them for?” Gabriela asked, sifting through the pile for clues.

“For being a hero, of course!” her brother answered.

“I know _that._ I mean what hero things do you think he did?”

“He probably fought a thousand bandits and liberated Mexico City with a paperclip and a piece of string!” Vicente picked up a gold eagle and held it up to the light. “This one’s my favorite.”

“You don’t say.”

The twins whirled around, their eyes bugging out. “Papa!”

Joaquin stood in the attic doorway, his expression bemused as he looked over the scene. When he saw the pile of medals, he raised an eyebrow. “You guys know you’re not supposed to be up here.”

“Uh…we were just leaving!”

“After you found those?”

“The general was telling us about them,” Vicente said, hanging his head. “We wanted to see. You never said you had so many, Papa.”

To their surprise, Joaquin merely smiled and sat down beside them. “Yeah, I guess there are.”

“Did you do a bunch of hero things to get them?” Gabriela asked.

“A few. But a lot of them are just for little things.” His face turned somber as he looked at one with a bright green ribbon.

The children began to slink away. _“Lo siento,_ Papa.”

“No need to be sorry,” Joaquin said. “Tell you what: you guys can each pick out one and it’ll be yours. It can be for whatever you want it to be. And after dinner, I’ll tell you what I remember about the rest.”

Vicente immediately grabbed the eagle and ran off laughing. Gabriela lingered a few moments, picking out a silver heart with a dark blue ribbon. “Are you sure you’re not mad, Papa?”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “I’m not mad, Bry. It’s about time someone put these things to good use.”      


	19. Book Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Ofelia doing unconventional things (including but not limited to putting Posada in his place).

While it was assumed by everyone in San Angel that the new mistress of Casa de Sanchez would dutifully fulfill her role as the societal face of her husband’s household, it was also unanimously understood that she would do so on her own terms.

A seemingly endless number of books took up most of Maria’s luggage. There were thick tomes bound in leather, flimsy paperbacks purchased from little shops. Crisp, new pages and worn, dog-eared ones. Languages that were familiar to the people of San Angel and ones they had never seen before. Books that Maria said were very rare, and books of which she had many copies. It was these which she gave to the women of San Angel whenever she paid them a visit.

“We don’t often read for pleasure around here, Señora Sanchez,” most of them said, eying the books with either apprehension or veiled disdain.

“They’re very popular back in Europe,” she told them, a flicker of a crafty smile on her face. “You wanted to know a lot about that, didn’t you?”

After that, she waited. And one by one, the women all returned to her.

“I was up all night finishing this! It was lovely!”

“What a wonderful poet!”

“I loaned it to Señorita Travieso after I was done. She said she’s never read anything like it. Do you think the other girls would like a copy?”

Maria smiled. “I could ask them.”

A few afternoons later, she brought them all together in her parlor and asked them if they would like to read something together. “I think you’d all like this one,” she said, passing out several small paperbacks. “It’s from England. This man has five daughters, and he needs to find husbands for them all _very_ quickly…”

That afternoon, as things turned out, was the first meeting of San Angel’s very own book club. Each week they gathered at a different woman’s house, partaking in pots of tea, plates of sandwiches and pastries and - their favorite part - hours of conversation. They sat huddled together in parlors, their noses in their books, laughing and gossiping and critiquing. The books they chose grew longer, more complicated. Ladies offered up their own suggestions for what to read, to the group and amongst each other. Maria exhausted the supply of what she had brought from Europe and sent away for copies of the latest Velas and Usiglis, while her friends began to build up libraries of their own. Within a few short years, reading for fun had become a fashionable pastime indeed.

Ofelia knew all about the book club. When she found out what the women were reading next, she stole into the library and followed along whenever she could. When the meetings were held in another house, she listened to her mother tell Manolo about them afterwards. When Maria hosted them, the ten-year-old hid at the top of the stairs and watched intently.

_Today I’ll do it,_ she thought. _I’ll ask Mama if I can come to._

She never did.

* * *

“They say reading makes you age faster, _mija.”_

Maria looked up, her gaze as devoid of interest as it could be. “I suppose you would know, Papa.”

For several weeks, apparently without the knowledge of what they discussed, General Posada had been imploring the group to meet in his mansion for a day. His daughter, her patience wearing thin, had finally agreed; it would only be for one day, after all. And with both their husbands out of town for the weekend, Maria and Ixa had decided that bringing Ofelia and the twins along would do no harm either. The women had sent them upstairs upon their arrival at the mansion, and they had immediately set about chasing imaginary bandits. They were quiet enough, and for the first few minutes, Maria thought the meeting would proceed as normal after all.

So _of course_ her father had to come and watch.

“Are you still reading that silly book about the writer girl?” General Posada asked, eyeing the pages of the books as he circled the group.

“We’re nearly done with it.”

He peered over her shoulder. “I thought you said she wouldn’t marry her cousin.”

“Yes, but - “

“Well, can’t the foolish girl make up her mind?”

“An angry mob burned his house down, and then she found out he wasn’t married to - “

“The sensible thing would have been to marry him when he first asked, of course.” The general continued to drone on, as though he were a tenured professor lecturing a room of unwilling students. “Then none of that nonsense would have happened. “But I suppose it’s more _romantic_ that way. Just the sort of thing you’d expect a woman to write…”

“She didn’t marry him then because he was wrong about them.”

They all looked up. Ofelia was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, watching her grandfather with a hint of bemusement. “He wanted to be a good man and make her happy, but he didn’t know how. He thought that doing things people thought were good would make him good, and he thought she didn’t need her writing to be happy. She knew they wouldn’t work together, so she left. Now he knows what she needs, and he’s helping people because he wants to. That made her figure out she couldn’t write the way she wanted to without him. Now they’re ready.”

General Posada gaped, his face twisted in a mix of confusion and anger. Maria looked surprised for a moment, then slowly smiled. _“Gracias, mija._ Anything else you’d like to add, Papa?”

The old man shut his mouth, muttered something about business to attend to and stormed off.

Maria looked back at her daughter, who was slowly making her way back upstairs. “Been reading along, have we?”

The girl smiled nervously and looked at her shoes. “Just sometimes…”

“Well, there’s always room here if you’d like to join us.”

Ofelia paused, her expression brightening. “Really?”

“Of course.”

A large grin spread across her face as she hurried back down the stairs and took a seat beside her mother.

Maria laughed and put an arm around her. “I figured it would be easier than hiding on the staircase back home. Now where were we?”


	20. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet about the twins.

“Tell me about Europe, _Tía_ Maria,” the little redheaded girl would say, crawling into the woman’s lap.

Maria would smile - a sad one, although the girl could not see this yet. “I’ve told you all there is to tell, Gabriela.”

“Then tell me again!”

So Maria would laugh and shake her head and speak once more of the mysterious continent: its old cities, its rolling countrysides, its long beaches and infinite oceans, its artwork and music and adventures and wonderful people. Later that evening, as she lay in bed at home, Gabriela would cling to the images as though they depicted a lost world from one of her books. _Europe_ …yes, that was the first step. The beginning of her travels. She would be just like her father and her aunt, risking life and limb in a world with danger and excitement, without any rules.

And, best of all, without any brothers.

When she woke from a nap one afternoon, the first sensation she felt was something rough and stringy tickling her eyelids. She tried to open her eyes, only to find her vision blocked by a sea of red. She shrieked and tumbled out of her bed, barely feeling the sting of the floorboards as she clawed at the boy which her braids had been tied into. _“Vin!”_

Vicente was slumped on the other side of the room, holding his sides as he cackled. _“Ay, hermana!_ You should see the look on your - “ He froze and blanched as he saw Gabriela’s eyes fixing on him, filled with the glint of blood-stained steel. “…Please don’t kill me.”

They flung themselves out into the hallway a few moments later, screaming and biting and kicking and pulling at hair. Vicente ended up with his head pinned squarely beneath Gabriela’s knee, his eye black from having said knee shoved into it. “Hey, let me go! It was just a joke!”

_“I’ll show you a joke, **burro!”**_ She punched him again, then hauled him to his feet and began dragging him down the hall by his hair.

He pulled himself free and darted out of her reach. “This is just what brothers do to sisters, you know.”

“And when did I ever say I wanted a brother?” Gabriela snapped.

Vicente scowled back at her. “Well, I don’t want a sister, either!”

“Good!” She shoved him one more time before storming back into her room, ignoring the worry in his voice as he called out after her.

_Stupid,_ she thought. _I’ll show him just how well I can get along without him._ It was only a matter of finding a way across the ocean.

* * *

A horse and cart came through town each Friday evening, delivering goods from the city and collecting those ready to be shipped on the next morning’s train. Gabriela tied her bedsheets together and managed to climb down into the garden, then slip through the bars of the fence and into the street. Señor Gonzalez always set a number of barrels in the alley behind his store in preparation for today, and the girl’s heart soared as she saw one that was still without its lid. She slipped inside quickly, burrowing underneath the piles of hay and sacks of corn until she fancied herself invisible.

Laughing to herself, she peered out through a crack in the wood. It wouldn’t be long before the barrel was sealed, and then it wouldn’t be long before the cart arrived. Once she was in the city, she would find her way to the docks and sneak aboard a boat to Europe. Perhaps she would go find the convent Maria had gone to - surely the people there would take her in. Then she would be off around the continent, and then around the world, seeing all there was to -

_“Gabriela Matilda Mondragon!”_

All she saw after that was the light suddenly bursting in from above, and her father’s angry expression as he lifted her up to meet his gaze.

* * *

Several hours and reprimands later, she was sulking in her room when a thought came to her: Vin must have told. That was the only explanation. He couldn’t bear to let her have something that she wanted, and so he had told.

There was a light knocking at the door. “Bry?”

“I’m going to kill you when I get out of here.”

“I know.”

She glared at the door. “Then go away.”

Vicente sat down, his back scraping against the wood. “I’m sorry I tied up your hair. That was wrong.”

“That’s not all you have to be sorry for.”

“I’m not sorry I told,” he said, raising his voice a bit.

“You should be!”

“You can leave if you want,” Vicente continued, “but I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to go away like _Tía_ Maria did. Mama and Papa would miss you. I’d miss you.” When Gabriela didn’t answer, he stood up. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“…Did Mama and Papa tell you to say that?”

“No.”

She saw nothing of him for the rest of the day. He was eating breakfast when she came downstairs the next morning, and when he saw her, he looked shocked before smiling hesitantly.

“What?” she asked, smiling back. “Didn’t expect to see me?”

Perhaps there was a use for brothers after all. She couldn’t get along very well without someone to torment every now and again, could she?


	21. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Ofelia and Posada semi-goodness.

General Posada’s eye level was equal to that of his granddaughter, and he fixed his firmest look on her as he drummed his fingers on his hook. “Ofelia.”

The girl stood as straight as she could and smiled as her mother had told her. _“Hola, abuelo.”_

Maria looked at the two of them, trying to smile in a way that would hide her concern. “We should be back the day after tomorrow. Right, Manolo?”

“Of course,” he answered, trading sympathetic glances with his daughter.

“If there’s anything we forgot, Joaquin has the house key,” Maria continued. “Be good for your grandfather, _mija._ We’ll see you on Saturday.” She grabbed Manolo by the arm and hauled him towards the door, only pausing to let him say a quick _“Adios!”_ before stepping outside.

The general’s smile vanished as soon as they were gone. “Well,” he said, turning back to Ofelia, “I suppose it’s just you and me. Unless you’d rather run off to find the twins.”

Ofelia shook her head, keeping in her mind the reason her parents had sent her here in the first place. “No, _abuelo.”_

He circled her slowly, eyeing her as though she were a strange creature and occasionally poking her with his hook. “You’re practically a weed, you’ve grown so.”

“Mama and Papa said I might be tall.”

“I don’t suppose they said anything about how long you would be this spindly.”

She looked down at her shoes. “No…”

Grumbling something under his breath, General Posada began to scuttle up the stairs. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Can you show me your library after - “

“Just follow me!”

At least that settled the question of whether or not their encounter during the book club was still fresh in his mind.

* * *

Ofelia followed her grandfather to a door at the top of the stairs. Beyond it sat a small, dour bedroom which seemed as though it had not felt a foot on its floorboards in years. A thin layer of dust covered all of the furniture. The lock on the windows had begun to rust, and the dark curtains were drawn shut. A sheer canopy hung over the bed like a spider’s web. The gray, striped wallpaper was covered in faded patches the size of posters.

“We’ll eat at seven,” the general said as Ofelia dragged her suitcase past him. “You can do as you wish afterwards.”

She looked around, her eyes growing wide. “Was this Mama’s room?”

The old man nodded, not really listening. “I’ll be in my study if there’s a problem. _Only_ if there’s a problem.” Turning on his heel, he swept out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Clambering atop the bed, Ofelia lay on her back and looked around. From there she could see where all the posters in the room had been; they radiated out from the head of the bed, spreading across the other walls and onto the ceiling. She sat up and slowly ran her hands along one of the pale rectangles before sliding off the bed and going to part the curtains. A little force caused the old latch to give way, and the windows swung open. She stepped out onto the balcony, gazing at the surrounding buildings and the street below.

There were many pictures back at the Sanchez house of Maria as a girl: happy, blurry ones with Manolo and Joaquin, and solemn ones from the convent where her eyes were downcast as she pretended to smile. Manolo would stare at them fondly from time to time, but she acted as though they were never there. “Those?” she would say when someone pointed them out. “Oh, there isn’t much to say…”

Resting her chin on her hands, Ofelia leaned against the balcony railing and let her mind wander. _Maybe **abuelo** can tell me some things._

* * *

She watched him throughout the quiet dinner and, as they were finishing, decided to take the risk. _“Abuelo?”_

General Posada glanced up in the middle of lighting a cigar. “What do you want?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Only if it’s a small one.”

Ofelia shifted in her seat. “I don’t know if it is yet.”

“Well, spit it out and I’ll tell you!”

The girl bit her lip, but then cleared her throat and spoke up. “What was Mama like when she was little?”

Posada nearly choked on his cigar smoke. _“Qué?”_

“I thought there wouldn’t be any harm in asking you.” She shrugged.

The general frowned. “So she’s told you nothing of it.”

“No, _abuelo.”_

“Ashamed of herself, most likely.” He picked up his wine glass and took another heavy gulp. “As she ought to be! I’ve hardly gotten a moment’s rest since the day she was born! Far too much of her mother in her, you know. She was never quiet the first few years. Always sneaking out from under the servants’ noses as soon as she could walk. Kept tearing apart all the models and maps in my study. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your affairs in order with a viper like that running about? Playing with swords, tripping up the men on patrol, breaking the locks on every livestock pen in town… _dios mio,_ it was a wonder I got anything done before I sent her off.”

Standing up from the table without a word, Ofelia turned and began to slink away.

_“Ay,_ it was so quiet the day after she left.” General Posada paused, staring off into space. “Almost too quiet. I kept expecting her to come running around the corner with those boys, or come barging into the study with something she’d found in the library. She always spent so much time in the library…” His expression turned pensive as he looked at Ofelia, who had stopped to listen to him. “She never came back for the summer. I forgot what she sounded like. And when she did come back, she was…I’m sure you know. It would have been nice to see her grow up.” He rubbed his eyes, as though wiping away a tear. “It was necessary to send her to the convent, of course. No denying that.”

“Would you send me away?” The words came out too quickly for Ofelia to rein them in, and she froze as she felt them fly from her lips.

Posada looked at her as he took a deep draught from his cigar and blew the smoke into the air. “That,” he said after a long silence, “is for your parents to decide.”

“But if you could?”

His face grew stern once again. When he spoke, however, his voice had gone soft. “Let’s have no more talk of this, _nieta.”_

* * *

They said little to one another for the rest of Ofelia’s visit. She was outside playing with her friends much of the time, but when she lingered near the house, she caught glimpses of her grandfather watching her from the study window. After dinner, he would let her into the parlor and let her speak of what she was reading. At night, the door to his study stood open and a light was left burning in the hallway.

When Manolo came by on Saturday afternoon, he found his daughter and his father-in-law not at one another’s throats, but having a pleasant conversation in the foyer as they waited for him to arrive. He stopped in the doorway, his eyebrows raised as he looked at the scene. “Ofelia?”

She smiled, picked up her suitcase and hurried to his side. _“Hola,_ Papa!”

He hugged her, still in a slight daze, before glancing up at the general. “She wasn’t much trouble, was she?”

The old man almost smiled. “Not at all.”


	22. Ghost Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ofelia and Gabriela have a misadventure.

“A ghost.”

“Yes!”

“In your house.”

_“Yes!”_

Ofelia glanced around the mostly empty square before moving closer to Gabriela, her curls falling down around her face. “What makes you think so?”

“I know so,” the other girl answered, digging around in her satchel until she pulled out two folded pieces of paper. “I’ve been trying to catch it all week. Every night it’s been walking around the halls at half past one. The first time I just heard it from under the door when I was in bed. Then I put flour in the hall to catch its steps.” She opened one of the papers, revealing a crude image of a vaguely human footprint. “And then I snuck out when it was going and I nearly died but I _saw_ it!” Here she thrust the second piece of paper into her friend’s hands.

Opening it, Ofelia found herself looking at a series of hasty scribbles that formed the bulky shape of a human with large feet, even larger teeth and wavy lines shooting out from its mouth.

“That’s the noise it makes!” Gabriela said. She coughed a few times and made a rumbling sound in her throat, somewhere between muttering and gurgling.

Ofelia, trying not to look too skeptical, still furrowed her brows. “Are you sure it isn’t…”

“It can’t be Mama or Papa because they’ve been going to bed early - Papa hasn’t felt well. And it can’t be Vin because Vin’s too afraid of the dark, you know that!”

“Alright. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

“It might be dangerous, Bry.”

“Or maybe it needs our help! We won’t know unless we try to track it down!”

The older girl shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Let me see these.” She stared at Gabriela’s drawings, her head cocked slightly as she thought to herself. “Do you think Aunt Ixa and Uncle Joaquin would let me spend the night?”

Gabriela perked up. “Of course!”

“Then tell them I’d like to come over today,” Ofelia said with a smile. “And tonight we’ll get to meet your ghost.”

* * *

Joaquin and Ixa were more than happy to have their daughter’s friend come visit, as were Manolo and Maria. Ofelia went to have dinner with the Mondragons that evening, carrying with her a small bag of clothes and supplies for the evening. Gabriela pulled her aside as soon as she arrived, and the girls talked of school and books and imagined adventures through the meal and into nightfall. When the clock struck nine, they both hurried up the stairs without having to be told. _“Buenas noches,_ Mama!” Gabriela shouted as she left.

_“Buenas noches,”_ Ixa called back. “Odd of her not to put up a fuss,” she said to herself when the girls were out of earshot.

Joaquin shrugged and yawned. “Maybe she’s tired, too.”

Once in Gabriela’s room, the girls pulled all the blankets and pillows off the bed and spread them out on the floor near the door. They lay tucked underneath the layers for what seemed like forever, staring at the ceiling as they waited for the noise from below to die down. Finally the house grew quiet, and they could only hear Ixa walking down the hall putting out the lights. A moment later, even that was gone.

Immediately they sat up and crawled over to the bed, dragging boxes and bags out from beneath it. Ofelia carefully lit a few candles, while Gabriela got out the books and snacks she had hidden away. They read, they ate, they played all the games they could think of, and they kept a constant eye on the clock.

“I’ve never been up this late before,” Ofelia said as one o’clock approached. “Not without Mama and Papa knowing, at least.”

“I do this all the time,” her friend answered with a smirk on her face. “Now you’ve got to be quiet, it’s almost - “

And then the floorboards outside creaked.

Both girls froze, their eyes locked on the space at the bottom of the bedroom door. Gabriela was the first to shake herself free: fumbling around for her toy sword, she slowly stood and crept forward with Ofelia behind her. “Can you hear it, Felia?” she whispered.

“I can hear something…”

The footsteps slowed down as they grew closer. Suddenly they stopped, as though their owner had vanished.

Gabriela pushed the door open, and the girls stepped out into the hallway. Shreds of moonlight were filtering in from a window close by, but not enough to see clearly.

“I think it’s gone,” Ofelia said, glancing around. “If it was here, I’d see it glowing or - “

“AAAAAHHHHHH!”

Ofelia spun around. Gabriela was on the floor, scrambling away from a dark, hulking figure that swayed as it loomed over them. It seemed to be rubbing its eyes, grumbling hoarsely as it tried to form words. Then it swung down an arm and tried to grab Gabriela, who kicked at it as she darted away. It stumbled and cried out at the impact, its footing almost lost.

The girl sprang to her feet. “Gimme the sword!” she shouted at Ofelia, who spotted it lying on the floor and threw it to her. Letting out as loud a shriek as she could, she threw herself at the creature, knocked it over and began to hit it with the sword. _“Vete al diablo!”_

_“Gabriela! What are you **doing?”**_

The girls flinched as the hallway lights abruptly blared to life. Ixa and Vicente were still half asleep as they hurried towards the scene before them. Their eyes were bugging out of their heads, while their jaws had gone slack with horror.

_“Well?”_ Ixa demanded, nearly shouting.

Gabriela looked down. Lying beneath her was her father, blinking rapidly as he woke.

Joaquin slowly sat up, first seeing his daughter perched on his chest with a toy sword in hand, and then the rest of his family looking down at him. He raised a hand to the marks on his face and shoulders, which were already starting to turn red and sting. Hadn’t he been in bed a minute ago? “Guys…? W-What’s going on?”

* * *

He had gone sleepwalking every now and then as a boy, before his mother had gone to the city. Never anything harmful, simply a trip up and down the halls and then back to bed once more. The wanderings had ceased following his move to Casa de Posada, or so he had assumed. That was all it had been - there was no ghost.

Vicente was sent back to bed, while the girls were sat down in the parlor and made to recount their story: Gabriela’s first suspicions, the flour in the hallway, the drawings, asking for Ofelia’s help, staying up late and attacking Joaquin by accident. They spoke quietly and stared at their hands the whole time, hunched over and bedraggled.

Joaquin sighed when they were done. “Okay. How about we - “

“Please don’t tell Uncle Manolo and Aunt Maria,” Gabriela added abruptly. “This isn’t Felia’s fault. It was all my idea.”

To the girls’ surprise, Joaquin smiled weakly. “I was just gonna say let’s all get some sleep. I’m not bad, Bry. You didn’t do it on purpose. At least I hope so.”

Gabriela’s eyes moved up to meet his. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a bad ghost. So you and Mama and Vin wouldn’t get hurt.”

Joaquin put an arm around her. “Well, now we know the house isn’t haunted, don’t we?”

He escorted them upstairs and back to the bedroom, and as he was walking away, the girls thought they heard him laughing.

“Still,” Gabriela said to herself as she drifted off, “it would’ve been fun to find a ghost…”


	23. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun and fluff as a new character is introduced.

Manolo and Maria had thought and spoken about the idea for a number of years, both well aware of the pros and cons of being an only child. They asked the Mondragons, who said it was really much easier than it looked having more than one. They asked Ofelia, who brightened at the prospect of a new playmate. They did not bother asking General Posada, who gave them an earful about his lack of a grandson on a regular basis. They talked amongst each other until their tenth anniversary rolled around, and then they decided that the time was right. Nothing seemed to come from their first few efforts, however, and when spring arrived bringing Valeria with it, the whole matter was seemingly forgotten.

“Where’s Mama?” Ofelia asked her father as they played chess in the parlor one May afternoon.

“She went to see the doctor about her hand,” he answered. “And her stomach.”

“Do you think she’s sick?”

At that moment, the front door swung open. “Well,” Manolo said, nodding towards it with a smile, “now we can ask her ourselves.”

Maria lingered in the doorway before she hurried inside. The sunlight pouring in cast an ethereal glow around her, and she grinned more broadly than she had in a while as she sat down beside her husband. “I need to tell you something,” she said, taking him by the hand.

“Alone?”

“No, right here’s fine. It’s for Ofelia, too.”

The girl moved onto the sofa next to her. “What is it, Mama?”

“First,” Maria began, “the doctor said I can start drawing again.”

Manolo smiled and kissed her cheek. “What did he say about the sickness?”

She leaned into him, tracing circles on his chest. “I mentioned it. We talked for a while. About you and me…how I lost track of some things after last month…”

“Is something wrong, Maria?”

“No…” She paused, and then abruptly started to laugh as she buried her face in his shoulder. “It’s just so strange getting to tell you for the first time!”

“Tell me what?”

She smiled up at him. “What a good father you’re going to be.”

It took a moment to click in Manolo’s mind, but he burst out laughing and threw his arms around Maria when it did. She laughed with him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a full kiss.

Ofelia seemed to understand what was being said, but not what to think. “Are you going to have another baby, Mama?”

_“Si,_ Ofelia,” she said. “And soon you’re going to be someone’s _hermana.”_

* * *

Word spread around the village in a matter of hours once Maria began to show. Gifts and congratulations were sent, gossip was had, bets were placed. What they would name it, if it would be a boy or girl, who it would resemble the most. A few families declared that they were going to move out of town altogether: three Sanchezes had already caused quite enough trouble, and there was simply no telling what four of them might do. For the most part, however, there were nothing but kind words said: Señor Sanchez and his wife certainly deserved something to be happy about, and a new life was always a welcome sight.

“Who cares what _they_ think,” Gabriela said to Ofelia as they spoke of the matter one afternoon. “What about you?”

Ofelia shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “Still, you should enjoy this while it lasts. _Especially_ if you get a brother.”

The elder Sanchez seemed not to care about the sudden lack of attention from the townsfolk, nor the remarks about how her family might finally have a proper heir who wasn’t so insufferably odd. She spent much of the next nine months at home, following her parents like a wary spirit. She watched her mother’s gradual transformation as they tended to their chores: knitting new clothes and toys, dusting off old furniture, helping Manolo set up the nursery. As the awaited day drew nearer, she found herself caring for the usual tasks which Maria could no longer do. Manolo needed all the help he could get cooking the meals and washing Chuy, and there was always some errand that needed to be run when everyone else was too busy.

Perhaps she wanted to help, or she was merely curious, or she was heeding Gabriela’s advice after all.

* * *

Maria groaned, then winced as the baby kicked for what might have been the thousandth time were she still counting. Still half-asleep on the sofa, she opened her eyes and saw Ofelia reading on the other side of the parlor. _“Mija…”_

Ofelia looked up and hurried to her mother’s side, propping some pillows behind her back. “Yes, Mama?” she asked, her eyes straying towards Maria’s bulging abdomen. _She’s due any day now,_ the women said.

“I’m fine,” Maria answered, shielding her face from the late morning sunlight. “Is your father awake yet?”

“No. Do you need anything?”

“Just…” She abruptly gritted her teeth and doubled over, clutching her belly.

“Mama…?”

There was a faint _pop_ from somewhere within, and Maria’s skirt was abruptly turning damp. “…Get the midwife!”

The hours quickly melted into a frenzied race to and fro. Not only did the midwife and the doctor have to be fetched, but also General Posada and the Mondragons and a number of other neighbors. Manolo had to be roused and subsequently brought back under control when he realized what was happening. Maria had to be helped upstairs to her bedroom in the midst of hastily gathering all the supplies that might be needed. Through the pandemonium hurried Ofelia and the twins, being ordered around and occasionally pushed out of the way by one of the adults. Eventually the shouts became a noisy drone that filled the whole house, and the trio buried themselves in the sofa cushions to drown it out.

A few minutes later they heard a loud shriek, followed by several women driving Manolo and Joaquin down the stairs to the parlor. The former immediately began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath. _“Por favor no me dejes…por favor no me dejes…”_

“She’ll be okay, Manny,” Joaquin said, straining to keep his face and voice calm. “I’ll bet you she’s gotten sliced up worse than this.”

Ofelia bolted up. “W-What does that mean?”

Joaquin blanched as he realized she was in the room. “Ah, it just means…i-it’s nothing bad, dear, your mother’s fine…”

“Did the baby get stuck?” Vicente asked.

“That’s none of your business, _mijo.”_

“I bet its hair is too big and pointy!” Gabriela added.

“Alright, one more word and you’re both grounded.”

“Papa?” Ofelia asked, looking up at her father. “Is something bad going to happen to Mama?”

For a few moments, Manolo simply looked back at her. He took a few deep breaths, tried to stop his trembling hands and sat down in the space she offered him. “Mama just needs a little help getting the baby out. That’s all.”

“Will she be okay?”

He gave her a tired smile. “She’s a very strong lady. That’s where you got it from, you know.”

“Then why do you look worried?”

“Because sometimes I can’t help but worry.”

Ofelia wriggled underneath his arm. “How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. All we can do right now is wait.” Manolo leaned back against the sofa and sighed. “I haven’t even asked how you’re doing.”

“I’ve been thinking,” the girl answered. “About what I’m going to say to the baby when they come out.”

“Good idea…”

Minutes passed like hours, and still they waited. Several times they heard Maria crying out from upstairs. Each time the sound made Manolo stiffen and bite his lip, and each time he smiled at Ofelia and held her a little closer. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

By afternoon, the cries had stopped and the surrounding confusion had faded into a quiet hum. Ixa came walking down the stairs, looking haggard as she wiped her hands on the old apron she had donned. When she saw Manolo, she hurried to his side and whispered in his ear.

He immediately relaxed and stood up, whispering a small prayer of thanks under his breath. “Stay here just a while longer, _mija.”_ He followed Joaquin and Ixa up towards the bedroom, which had now gone silent.

The children lingered at the bottom of the stairs, looking up the steps and waiting. Faint voices and laughter drifted down from the second floor, along with the wails of a newborn.

Manolo reappeared, smiling and gesturing to Ofelia. “Do you want to meet your brother?”

* * *

The crowd that filled the bedroom parted as Ofelia made her way towards her mother. Maria was sitting up against a pile of pillows, trying to keep still as one of the women cleaned off her brow. Tucked in her arms was a small, crying, thrashing bundle which she turned for Ofelia to see.

“Here is your sister, _mijo,”_ the woman said, grinning. “Don’t you want to meet her?” She looked up at Ofelia. “This is Alejo.”

He was much smaller than the girl had imagined, with ruddy skin and a wrinkled face. Growing atop his head was a curl the color of chocolate. He got his eyes from his mother as well, bright hazel irises darting about in fearful confusion. They settled on Ofelia as the boy’s shrieks dwindled to whimpers.

She reached out and gently touched his head. _“Hola_ …I-I guess I’m your _hermana.”_ She paused, searching for her next words. “I hope you like it here. You have a good mama and papa, and you have me.”

Alejo cried out and squirmed again, but not as violently as before. Manolo laughed and gently took him from Maria’s arms as he sat down on the bed. “He’s already got a lot to say, hasn’t he?”

“You’ll have to stay in bed a few days, _señora,”_ the doctor said, gesturing to Maria’s abdomen. “Just to make sure the wound is healing as it should.”

Maria groaned and flopped backwards. “Papa’s going to bring the _fiesta_ in here, then.”

“We’ll tell him to wait until you feel well enough for it,” Manolo told her, handing back Alejo. The others were filing out of the room now, aware that this was no longer their domain.

Maria undid her nightgown enough to expose one breast and let Alejo attach himself. The boy nuzzled against her and eagerly began to suck. “How do you feel?” Manolo asked his wife.

“Technically I’ve had worse…”

He wrapped one arm around her and the other around Ofelia. “Well, we can’t be split up that easily.”


	24. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sanchez clan deals with the pros and cons of having a new baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick heads up: this will be the last installment of NC for the next few months. I’ll be posting a few TBOL oneshots after this, but the next LND-related work you’ll see will be the start of a new full-length story. I hope to have that up and going in a few weeks.

Manolo bolted awake as the shrill cries pierced through the night’s stillness. He shook his head and rubbed his face, trying to clear his mind and assure himself that the noise wasn’t simply coming from his head. No, there it was: needy wails coming from the nursery.

Beside him, Maria grumbled and pulled the blankets over her head. “It’s your turn.”

“I know…”

They had been prepared for this, or so they had thought. Alejo was every bit as charming a baby as Ofelia had been, but his volume was another matter altogether. Whenever he wanted to be fed, changed or even simply held, the boy screamed himself hoarse until his parents came to tend to him. The hour was of no importance - or perhaps it was, since he seemed so fond of calling for them at night. Manolo would get out of bed first to see what the matter was, and then Maria would go when it happened again (it never happened only once). Between those times, they did their best to get what little sleep they could. Each morning inevitably found them with sunken, bleary eyes as they nodded over their breakfast.

“Oh, _now_ you decide to do that,” Maria said one morning as she watched the baby drift off to sleep in his chair. “Wonderful.”

“You should go back to bed,” said Manolo, stroking her hair. “I’ll watch the children.”

_“Gracias.”_

“It won’t last forever, you know.”

She grunted. “You think?”

“He’ll grow out of it sooner than you think.” He smiled. “You might even miss this a few years from now.”

Ofelia certainly would not: she made that very clear without saying a word. After particularly long nights, she would trudge down to the dining room with her curls still tangled and bags beneath her eyes. Whenever she could, she spent her time outside with her friends and Chuy. Alejo would try to play with her in the evenings, reaching out with stubby hands or pushing a toy towards her. Each time, she would simply push her nose further into her book and not even give him a moment of time.

“Do you know why Alejo cries so often, _mija?”_ Manolo asked his daughter one evening as the boy gave her a forlorn stare that went unnoticed.

She glanced up from her book. “No, Papa.”

“It’s because he needs our help,” he said. “There are many things he hasn’t learned to do yet, so he tells us that what he needs us to do for him. In a few years he’ll be able to do them himself. Until then he’s got to depend on Mama and I. Sometimes when we’re already busy.”

Ofelia didn’t answer.

“He isn’t doing anything wrong, so we shouldn’t treat him like he is,” Manolo continued. “Do you understand?”

The girl seemed to consider this for a moment, then shifted in her seat. “Yes, Papa,” she mumbled. Whether it was out of resentment or guilt, her father could not tell. Alejo had moved on to playing with Chuy, unaware of the fact that his sister was finally looking at him.

* * *

As Manolo approached the nursery door, the crying from within abruptly stopped. He paused, his hand lingering on the doorknob, then cautiously placed his ear to the wood. Alejo was softly warbling beneath the tones of a gentle whisper. _“Está bien, está bien…”_

He opened the door. “Ofelia?”

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the crib, struggling to keep the squirming baby in her arms. When she looked up and saw her father, she briefly froze. “He…he sounded like he was lonely.”

Manolo smiled. “Well, he seems very happy to see you.”

“Is this how you hold him?”

“Almost. You need to support his head a little more.”

He sat down beside her, readjusting her hold on Alejo. The boy yawned and grew still, his breaths becoming more even as he drifted back to sleep. Ofelia handed him to Manolo, who stood and placed him back in his crib. They both lingered a moment as they walked towards the door, watching him sleep.

“You know,” Manolo said quietly, “just because Mama and I love Alejo doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

Ofelia smiled up at him. “I know.”


	25. Family Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluffy oneshots return! For a while, at least. I’ve got a few of these planned before we go into another full-length story. I hope you enjoy them. :)

Joaquin had heard the intruders chattering even before they’d emerged from their hiding place. He shot a glance at Maria, who looked back at him and simply rolled her eyes; she had heard them as well. Both went back to sipping their drinks and watching their children play with Chuy. They would deal with this interruption when the time came.

Behind a large rock a few yards away, half a dozen scrappy bandits watched the two families with hungry, peering eyes. From their perspective, the fools were too busy picnicking to realize the danger they were now in. Mondragon and his friend had laid aside their weapons. One of the women, the one known as a fighter, she had a baby in her arms. The other woman was busy watching the rest of the youngsters, who were playing with a large chubby pig. The whole scene was idyllic enough to be ridiculous, and Dientes Bala had to summon all his composure to keep from cackling at the sight.

One of his men, a wiry fellow with a metal plate covering a chunk of his skull, was shifting around looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, boss…”

“Of course it’s a good idea!” the leader of the group snapped at him. “Look at this. We’ve got them right where we want them. We capture the heroes of San Angel, and we’ll get more respect than even Chakal could have dreamed of!”

“Shush! They’ll hear you!”

But Dientes Bala was too busy getting drunk on his ambitions while still being drunk from the night before. “Let them hear!” he shouted. “I want them to know my name! _Attack!”_

And so they all came lumbering out into the open, brandishing rusted weapons and shrieking various battle cries. Joaquin nearly burst out laughing.

Manolo was the only person in the group to be caught unawares by the sudden noise. He sat up and scrambled for his sword, but a raised hand from Maria made him pause. Everyone else greeted the oncoming bandits with placid smiles; even the children didn’t show much concern.

Joaquin was the first to stand up. _“Buenas tardes,_ gentlemen,” he said, still trying to hide his laughter. “And who might you be?”

_“Silence!”_ the bandit leader shrieked, pointing a knife at his adversary’s face. “Know that you are now the prisoners of the great and fearsome Dientes Bala!”

“You call yourself Bullet Teeth? Seriously?”

Dientes Bala bared his teeth, which were indeed crudely inserted bullets of various shapes and sizes. “It strikes fear into the hearts of men!”

“Fear into the hearts of dentists, maybe.”

By now the bandit was starting to grow red in the face. “I know who you are, soldier,” he growled. “Your name escapes me, but I know you! You have been my sworn enemy ever since I rode with King Chakal!” Dientes Bala had never ridden with Chakal in his life, of course, but it sounded like a grand feat to claim. “And now that he is dead…”

“You’re a little late on that, _amigo.”_

_“Now that he is dead,_ I, Dientes Bala, have come to avenge my leader by capturing the protectors of San Angel! And there is nothing you can do about it!”

“O- _kay,”_ said Joaquin, glancing around at his friends and family, who looked just as bemused as him. “So let me get this straight. Your plan is to ambush us and haul us off to your lair, right?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Well, then. I don’t know about the rest of these guys, but I really gotta say…that is _adorable.”_

And with that, Joaquin threw the first punch.

* * *

The people of San Angel gasped and cleared out of the streets as a motley group came striding into town. The Sanchez and Mondragon clans did little to acknowledge the strange looks they received as they passed. Behind them, Plata was pulling a wagon filled with six battered, half-conscious bandits. The procession halted in front of the jail, where Manolo and Joaquin rolled out their prisoners one by one, depositing them at the feet of the astonished soldiers.

“Tell General Posada they’re all his,” Joaquin said. “And watch out for the one with the funny teeth. He likes to kick.” He and his companions were on their way without another word.

The picnic was resumed under safer conditions, namely the Mondragons’ garden. The children had decided to play a game of soldiers and bandits, of which Vicente had volunteered to be the latter and soon found he had made a terrible mistake.

“Is it just me,” Maria said as she watched Joaquin pull Gabriela out of the fray, “or does it seem like we’ve got plenty of fools trying to fight us these days?”

Her husband shrugged. “Call it a new family tradition.”


	26. Canela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ofelia makes a new friend, and Manolo disapproves.

“Ofelia Catrina Sanchez,” Manolo said through his teeth, “I am not letting you keep that _thing_ in our house.”

“Then I’ll keep her somewhere else,” his daughter answered.

“You know what I meant!”

They were arguing over the small, fuzzy lump that Ofelia was carefully keeping in her lap as she sat on the parlor sofa. One might have thought it to be an ordinary kitten, until they noticed the telltale dark spots. Ofelia was cradling it in her arms, while her father was looking at it as though he’d like to throw it out the window.

Manolo to his wife for assistance, but there he found only a look of mutual frustration. “See? She isn’t listening.”

_“Mija,”_ Maria said, “we’re worried it could be another trap.”

“It’s not. She isn’t one of those jaguars, I can tell. I’d have felt it if she was,” Ofelia added, tapping her temple.

“Why do you keep calling it a she?” Manolo asked.

“She’s a girl jaguar, Papa.”

“Look, where’d you even find it?” said Maria.

“The graveyard. She was crying next to Abuelo and Abuela’s grave and we didn’t see her mama anywhere. Vin says she’s a runt and that’s why she’s so small. She might die if I don’t help her.”

“Then let it,” Manolo muttered.

Maria saw her daughter’s horror-stricken face and instantly started pulling Manolo towards the kitchen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually on her side here!” Manolo said as she shut the door to the parlor.

“Believe me, I’m not,” she told him. “I want to get rid of it just as much as you do. But she’s just as stubborn as you are. You can’t just tell her no and expect her to go along with it, Manolo. You should know that!”

“But over _this_ …” He shook his head. “She smart. She’ll come to her senses sooner or later.” He reopened the kitchen door. “ _Mija_ , we - “

But Ofelia was gone. Her parents heard the sound of her shoes clicking along the upstairs hall, quickly followed by that of the lock on her bedroom door.

Maria came up beside Manolo with her arms crossed and her best ‘See what you’ve done?’ look on her face. “Well?”

He sighed. “Alright…alright. I’ll leave her alone for a while. But tomorrow. Tomorrow it goes out.”

* * *

It did not go out the next day, or even the next week.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to,” Manolo said. “You think you can fool all of us.”

The jaguar cub was curled up in a basket on the other side of the parlor. It was sleeping at the moment, full of the milk Ofelia had been dutifully giving it. At the sound of his voice it yawned, wiggled its ears and sat up to stare at him with large dark eyes.

Manolo glared back at it. “I don’t care how much my daughter likes you, the _second_ I catch you trying to hurt her - “

“Papa, what are you doing?”

He looked to see Ofelia watching him from the stair landing. “Ah…nothing, _mija_.”

“Papa,” she pleaded as she finished descending the stairs, “please don’t be mean to Canela.”

“I was just…wait, what did you call it?”

“Canela. That’s her name. Look, she even knows it already!”

Sure enough, the cub had crawled out of the basket and scurried over to Ofelia upon hearing her voice. The girl laughed and reached down to scratch her friend’s ears.

“I don’t like that you’ve named it,” Manolo said.

“Why not? She needs one just like the rest of us.”

“Are you alright?” he continued. “Have you noticed anything strange happening lately…?”

“No, Papa,” Ofelia answered, her voice firm.

“Are you sure?”

She picked up Canela and looked her father square in the eye. “Nothing,” she said, and she went back upstairs, leaving Manolo to grumble to himself.

* * *

The weeks passed, and eventually Manolo began to wonder if he was the only sane person left in San Angel. Everyone else had seemed to stop noticing the jaguar, and if they did, they had stopped reacting with fear. The creature had grown larger and more bright-eyed, and now it trotted at Ofelia’s side wherever she went. Ofelia was equally devoted, brushing its fur and making sure it was fed. A few of the townspeople still cleared out of the way when they saw the jaguar coming, but most had decided to regard it as just another oddity. A few even appeared to look on it fondly, greeting it with pats on the head. Chuy allowed it to eat next to him. Even Maria was throwing fewer glares in its direction; Manolo made sure he threw a few extra to keep things even, at least when Ofelia wasn’t looking.

That was the truly baffling part of it all. Surely Ofelia understood that this was a matter of her own safety - there was no way she couldn’t, after what she’d been through. He knew she still had nightmares about it sometimes, having seen her tired eyes the morning afterwards. Then why on earth had she looked at the creature which had come so close to destroying her and decided that it needed her help?

He hadn’t been expecting an answer, but it came to him on a quiet summer’s evening in the garden. He was sitting in the shade, tuning his guitar. Ofelia was on the ground reading, with the jaguar dozing in her lap. Every now and then she glanced at Alejo, who was playing with his toys a few feet away. Manolo did so as well, but eventually he found himself filtering out the noises around him as he worked on the guitar.

A high-pitched growl pulled him back into the present, and his head shot up. The jaguar had climbed out of Ofelia’s lap and was now crouching close to the ground, its ears lying back and its tail twitching. It was glaring at Alejo, or so it seemed.

“Canela, what’s wrong?” said Ofelia.

Before she or Manolo could move, the jaguar bared its teeth and pounced. But it flew past Alejo, landing instead on a small black creature writhing in the grass.

Ofelia gasped and pulled her frightened brother away from the reach of the snake, which was still trying to snap its jaws at him. Manolo leapt up from his seat and scooped a handful of rocks from the dirt. “Get out of the way!” he shouted to the children, taking aim at the battle which had ensued.

Ofelia saw what he was planning to do. “Stop, you’ll hurt Canela!”

“So?”

“We would have been too late without her!”

By now the jaguar had managed to bat the snake several feet across the yard; the intruder righted itself and slithered away in disgrace. Remaining where it was, the jaguar sniffed the ground as though making sure all was now safe. When satisfied that this was so, it relaxed, turned around and started trotting towards Alejo.

“No,” Manolo snapped, reaching to grab his son.

Ofelia stopped his hand. “She might have saved his life, Papa. She just wants to check on him.”

Canela sat down next to the crying baby, smelled him and began to gently nudge his face with her head. Alejo quieted down, sensing as his companion had that the danger had now passed. This seemed to please Canela, who returned to Ofelia’s side and happily received a vigorous scratching between the ears.

Manolo backed away, thinking of what he didn’t want to admit. Ofelia was right - they would have been too late without her.

* * *

“ _Mija_?” Manolo whispered, knocking on his daughter’s bedroom door. “Are you awake?” When he received no answer, he gently pushed it open and stepped inside.

The candle he held aloft cast a dim light around the room. Ofelia was lying still in her bed, her glasses still on her face and an open book under one arm. Under her other arm, Canela was curled up and snoring. The jaguar stirred and opened her eyes as Manolo approached.

“Easy,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

In the bending shadows, Canela seemed to frown at him. But she closed her eyes and went back to sleep nonetheless, satisfied that this was no dangerous intruder.

Manolo set down the candle, then sat on the side of Ofelia’s bed, removed her glasses and placed them on the bedside table. “I’ll never understand why you decided to keep this friend of yours around, Ofelia,” he said. “But I’m glad that you have.”

He was about to stand up when Ofelia suddenly opened her eyes. “Papa?” she asked.

“Yes, _mija_?”

“You remember telling me about when you had to ask the bulls to forgive you?”

“…Of course.”

“I had to forgive the jaguars for what happened, so it couldn’t hurt me anymore. That was why I found Canela.”

“…I see.” Manolo left without another word, so his daughter wouldn’t hear him choking up.

The two of them never discussed the matter after that night. But Manolo no longer avoided Canela, nor did he object to the creature’s presence. In fact, on very rare occasions, she might even be found stretched out in his lap.


End file.
